The Time-Turner
by Wallman Tenebrae
Summary: Ron Weasley lived a very insignificant life compared to others, and died a meaningless death on the day of the Great Battle of Hogwarts. Instead of meeting Fred in the heavens, he meets the 12-year old Fred, teasing him with George, and his mother scolds him for waking late on an August morning of 1991. Will he relive his life? Time-travelling!Ron, Smart!Ron
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

The Death Eaters were folding under sheer weight of numbers, overcome by spells, dragging arrows from wounds, stabbed in the leg by elves, or else simply attempting to escape, but swallowed by the oncoming horde.

An unimaginable chaos, the Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry had, on this decisive day, turned into a battleground for the eternal war of Good against Evil. And, to the relief of many, the Good seemed to have the upper hand today. To an outside viewer, it would seem to be a powerful and evocative image of the Human struggle to live in a world contrasting thoughts, if she could see through the dust and sparks, that is.

Merlin knows, Ronald Weasley had not done many a great deed in his life. He wasn't always right in his life. In fact, he had many a times acted in ways that made his ears burn while remembering them. Despite this, he was happy to know that his heart was in the right place. He was on a side he would never regret choosing. He would save his family and friends, or those left in them.

 _Harry, Fred. Blimey, if someone's up there, don't make me lose another one of my family._ He felt his eyes becoming teary. As he was currently fighting against Fenrir Greyback, who'd once hurt Hermione, this was probably not the best of times to become a crying mess. He doubted if this savage wizard would hold the fight and provide him a comfortable shoulder to tear up on.

 _Neville would, though._

To say he was truly astonished of his current partner's change was an understatement. He was seriously baffled. He guiltily thought that maybe if he would have been a better friend, an encouraging support instead of a mocking classmate, Neville would have been even more heroic than Harry is-...was.

"Avada Ke-"

"Stupefy!"

"Protego!"

Greyback was not pleased with him. Well, he could live with that...

"Weasley, I want to finish this quickly, so that I can kill your mother next. Fiery lady, I never knew she had it in her! Killing Bella like that... It would be so much fun toying with her! "

Ron's demeanour quickly changed. He became fully focussed on Greyback. Anger clouded over his eyes and he wanted nothing more than to choke the werewolf to death.

"You rotten piece of scum!" He yelled.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Time had, probably literally, stopped for him. Ron felt it hitting him square in the chest, faintly heard Neville crying out his name, and only fleetingly remembered _her_. He remembered their last conversation...

 **(FLASHBACK)**

"Ron, I'm going with Ginny. _Please_ look out for yourself!" Hermione seemed really scared saying it, "Promise me you'll look out for yourself... "

"Yeah," His voice came out thick, too undesirable for possibly their last conversation, "I will, promise." She nodded, gave him a quick peck on the lips, and ran off, leaving Ron with some butterflies as excited as Pigwidgeon in his stomach. As he started going in the other direction, something caught his eyes.

"Another bloody dangerous locket?" He pulled out a golden locket lying beneath the ruins of castle lying on the floor, cleaned it off, and examined it. _So familiar._

"Aha," he recognised it, "it's Hermione's time-turner! Extremely dangerous, I knew it! " Sounds of blasts assaulted his ear-drums."Suppose I should keep it with me," he hurriedly wore it on his neck, "better me than You-know-... Voldemort."

 **(FLASHBACK END)**

He felt it breaking on his chest. That powerful time-turner which had stood against the waves of time could not endure the Killing Curse. How intriguing...

Ron saw every person, every curse going in the reverse direction, people going back from where they came, owls and arrows flying backwards. He imagined that this unusual sight is the sign of his brain shutting down, as his eyes tiredly close. He'll meet Fred and Harry, and they will have philosophical discussions, while watching the war that killed them, like outside viewers.


	2. Chapter 1: The First August

**Chapter One**

 **The First August**

An orange bedroom.

Familiar faces were smiling at him from the posters on the wall; the posters were doing a satisfying job of hiding the little creaks and the peeling paint. This room was as familiar to him as the back of his hand. But something about it seemed off; he couldn't point out what, though...

 _I'm feeling a bit funny,_ Ron thought. He thought about going out and calling someone, when he realised with a start where he was.

 _Home? How?_

He remembered that he was fighting Greyback. They were combating. He was participating in the Second Wizarding War! How did he come here? Who brought him?

He jumped from his bed and something really strange happened. His feet came in contact with the floor a little later than he expected. As a consequence, he fell on the floor with a loud "THUD". Ron Weasley was shocked, and he remained lying on the floor, trying to grasp what and how did this happen. After a while, he relaxed on the floor.

 _Spectacular_ , he thought gloomily, _this is surely a new height of clumsy from the master_...

"Fred and George would have endlessly teased me- " He shortly stopped his mumbles. With a jolt and a little guilt did he recall that his brother had died, and he didn't even remember it till now? He must see where the others are. He proceeded to push himself up by pushing his palms on the floor when he saw his hands carefully.

 _What the heck is this?_

What he saw was fingers smaller than he could recall, and the skin looked soft ,too soft for a person who had been a Quidditch Keeper, who had numerous scars on his arms from the dangerous situations he had regularly thrown himself into, and above all, for a wizard who had been practicing and using wand magic for seven long years . The solid muscles he had built for so long were nowhere to be seen. _Merlin, it's a kid's hand!_

"AAAAH!" Ron screamed, and the voice was too high-pitched for his comfort.

He hastily felt his face, his chest, his short feet, and came to the inevitable conclusion. _Merlin's saggy pants! No way, I've turned into a kid!_

He was feeling scared, or, as his face could tell, outright terrified. _What did Greyback do to me? What spell did he use? Bloody hell, I thought it was a Killing Curse! Is this Hell? Am I even dead? Nope, no, that's not right, my knees are still aching. I am not dead... unless, people do get hurt in Hell!_

Ron was fumbling with his confused thoughts, sweating all over, too afraid of his current state. Therefore, he failed to notice the new sounds of creaking stairs and light footsteps outside his room.

His door opened, and a small head with red flaming hair popped in.

"Ronnie?" It was _him_. Or the 12-13 years old version of him. It was his dead brother, Fred Weasley.

"GYAAAH!" Ron cried a high-pitched, alarmed, scared scream again making his poor elder brother stumble some steps backwards, and look at him with widened eyes, after a moment getting an understanding look in those orbs of his. Those eyes, which looked so frightening, so dead, the last time he saw them.

" _Okay_..." Fred drawled, "Mum, Ron's gone barmy!"

"Shut up, Fred Weasley!" His mother's familiar voice rang through The Burrow," You should not talk about your brother like that. Honestly-"

But Ron could not take it anymore. He felt his head on the verge of exploding. He quickly pushed a surprised Fred out of his way and ran to the washroom. He hurriedly locked it and sat down on the floor.

 _What is happening? How come am I in the past?_ He wondered. He stood up and walked in front of the mirror. A flabbergasted eleven-year old Ronald Weasley was staring back at him. He looked toward his door when he heard some sounds approaching him.

"From what you've told us Fred," George; It was George's voice. "This seems to be a clear case of bed-wetting."

"Well, you'd know that, won't you? I had to sleep on wet beds far too many times because of you-"

"Hey, I was scared by your face!"

"You do realise-"

"I do."

Molly Weasley's concern for her youngest son overcame the urge to hex the mouths off her twin children. She had sent Fred to remove the spider from Ron's room but the second cry was unexpected. She'd at once stopped cooking and ran to where he had headed to. "Ronnie? What happened?"

"Maybe puberty hit him hard, mum." George cracked again.

"Yeah, maybe Ron doesn't want us to see his one haired-beard- "

Inside, Ron wanted to cry. _Try 'puberty hit him and rebounded.'_ He checked his reflection again. _Merlin, not a single hair on my face!_ He mentally groaned.

Molly had an epiphany now. "Was it a nightmare, son?" She asked, her tone filled with concern.

Ron was going to croak out a 'no', when he stopped. Was it a nightmare? His blood froze. Was he actually barmy? An over-imaginative brain coming with a whole intricately detailed life story of seven years? _Blimey! What if it is true?_

Ron slowly opened the door, and was then enveloped into the loving, bone-crushing arms of his mother."Yeah," he croaked out, tears of confusion slowly dropping from his eyes, "Fred was killed... " and he needn't say anymore, since even Fred and George were giving him sympathetic looks, while Molly was crying out "Oh, poor Ronnie! It wasn't real, son."

It wasn't real, son.

 _Wasn't real_.

* * *

To Ron, Molly's breakfast was _heavenly_. He had not eaten her cooked food for nearly a year, and had missed it too much to bear. Hermione may be the most talented witch of his generation, but she couldn't have cooked something edible to save her life. Ron had been mean to her due to it at times... maybe every time, now that he thought about it. After finding them again after _that_ incident, he'd kept his remarks to himself, tried to help her even, but his efforts were in vain. Fleur was a good cook, but nothing compared to-

"Sausages, dear?"

"Yeah, mum!" said Ron, eyeing the tantalizingly delicious meal with a crazed grin, and some drool.

Dad was already gone. Percy was studiously scribbling notes inside his room, having finished his meal too fast for Molly's liking. Fred, George and small, _small_ Ginny were looking at Ron with a baffled look.

"Ickle Ronniekins is very weird today-"

"Even weirder than usual, George!" Fred exclaimed, with a lopsided smile, which quickly faded when he saw his young brother staring at him with, _dare he say it?,_ hearts in his eyes.

"You know, you're toying with my self-esteem. First you scream when you see me, and now this creepy thing you're doing..." He told Ron with a serious look.

"...Sorry!" Ron apologized after he understood what Fred was talking about. _Blimey, they look so young; it's hard to stop staring!_

* * *

The first thing that Ron looked for was the calendar, which clearly showed the date to be **1st August, Nineteen Ninety-One** , which meant that he hadn't even _started_ Hogwarts yet, nor had he met Harry and Hermione, _if they exist outside my head, that is..._

After finishing his breakfast, and hugging his surprised mom to show her how much he appreciated it, He went to Fred & George's room and pulled out the Potions book for second years, ' _The Book of Potions' by_ _Zygmunt Budge_ , with trembling hands. _This is it_ , he thought, _this will tell me if what I know is real or not..._

He felt his stomach churning as he opened George's battered copy and began reading it. After a few moments, he exclaimed-

"Mother-fuc-"he clamped his mouth shut and looked around. No one should hear such words coming out of an eleven-year olds mouth...

* * *

 ** _A/N: Thank you for the review & the follows & the favorites. This is quite new for me. The thoughts don't exactly come out right, but the appreciation has made me want to write more and improve my style, thanks a lot. -FBW._**


	3. Chapter 2: The Afternoon Tree

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

 **The Afternoon Tree**

 _I ain't mad! I ain't mad! It was real! All that stuff was actually real... But what now?_

It was a comforting to know that he wasn't mad, but now that Ron mused over it, it could have been an easier answer to his problems. A time-travel on such a large scale was not acceptable and, nor did he think, conceivable even. _What should I do now? Without anyone who can understand me here..._

This thought made him feel alone, abandoned. He brought his knees closer to his chest. _How? Why?_

He tried to remember the last thing he had seen in that night, the last curse he'd been hit with.

" _Avada Kedavra!"_

He instantly shivered. Greyback looked far more menacing than Voldemort, he thought. Voldemort looked like a broken, pathetic soul, desperately trying to avoid death by exposing his body to horrors worse than being lifeless, while Greyback was a wild beast, enjoying killing and tainting people...

He had a time-turner, he recalled. He had been wearing it while Greyback killed him, square in the chest... just where the device was supposed to be hanging. _Perhaps, the curse destroyed the Time-Turner, and through some weird circumstances combine with my supremely pathetic luck, I landed in the past._

He vaguely envisioned owls & arrows flying backwards...

He distinctly recalled the unpleasant emotions that were threatening to overwhelm him during the war. His best friend had died. Harry Potter was dead. Along with him went Fred Weasley, Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, Lavender Brown, Colin Creevey and many more he had been fond of. The night had been very unkind to them. And now he was here, at a point of his life when he used to judge everything as black and white, when he didn't know the kind of horrors the world could throw at him. When he was just a naive and optimistic kid looking for something to set him apart from his more talented brothers. _When they were all alive and blissfully unaware of the dark side of the wizarding nation._

 _When they were all alive, and happy._

He could save them, since he knew the exact time and place they were going to die. He could prevent many things. He could, as the full implications of his way of thinking hit him, completely change the future. He involuntarily shivered. _Can I?_

He remembered one of Professor Firenze's first lectures. Astronomy was actually fun when not being taught by frauds, and he had sadly sighed at seeing such a beautiful subject being tainted by the bespectacled Trelawney. One of the lines during those lectures had been so powerful that it remained with him even till now.

" _-Knowing the future is perilous indeed. Just by knowing the futuristic circumstances, you can actually change some part of it, however miniscule..."_

 _What can I even do? How would an average guy like me save those many people?_ Ron brooded over his predicament. Should he tell someone? Someone like Dumbledore?

" _Ah, Mr. Weasley. What happened?"_

" _Well, Professor, I have a confession to make. I've come from the future and I know everything till the day of 2_ _nd_ _May, Nineteen Ninety-Eight."_

 _Dumbledore sees red. "Pomfrey! Send this boy to St. Mungos! "_

Perhaps he was being unreasonable. Dumbledore _could_ understand something like long scale time-travel theory. It would be more along the lines of...

 _Dumbledore sees red. He begins spouting words at a frightening rate. "Pomfrey! Send this boy to St. Mungos! He could be very dangerous to my near-perfect schemes to finish off Voldemort! He may even tell Harry about the prophecy, and since the poor boy is not ready for that kind of shock, he may turn insane! I should be the one to shock Harry! No, wait! First I will look inside his head, and then you can throw him to the asylum... "_

Highly likely. Well, Ron may have a grudge against his former Headmaster for assigning them that stupid mission without even giving them any necessary details, leaving Harry and the two to make sense of his riddles while being chased by Voldemort.

At last, he decided not to tell Dumbledore about it. Time is an extremely delicate matter. He would not change the future so much that he won't be able to recognise it. Furthermore, Dumbledore already had a scarily good intuition. He was able to correctly guess that Ron would betray his friends' trust and abandon them, and then repent about it. That's why he gave him his own Deluminator. Still, he never proved Sirius innocent, let Umbridge abuse Harry. He let Cedric Diggory die, let Sirius die, along with so many others. He left the school like that, dying himself at the end, in the hands of Death Eaters. All for something known as 'The Greater Good'.

Ron could never be like that. He could not let people die and live with the knowledge that he could have saved them. So, he decided to take it upon himself. He would be the one to save everyone he knew of. He would save the Wizarding kind by saving Harry...

* * *

At the noon, Ginny called him down to de-gnome the garden with her. _'You aren't doing anything, just lying down on your bed!'_ She's said. As Ron was throwing the gnomes as high as forty-feet, and Ginny was pouting, having thrown hers to a considerably less height, Ron felt too nostalgic.

He'd missed the aroma of his home, The Burrow, he thought wistfully. Coming out in the garden at a carefree afternoon, feeling relaxed, and playing one of their home-made games with his sister; it felt too wonderful to simply express in words. He'd missed his carefree days of childhood.

"Ouch!" Ginny suddenly cried.

"What? What happened? Oh, the gnome bit you... Wait, I've got a hanky." Ron took out a white handkerchief and started tying it around the cut on Ginny's middle finger, while Ginny was looking at Ron with widened eyes. He noticed it after making sure that the he'd stopped her bleeding.

"What now?" He asked irritably.

"When did you start bein' so responsible, Ron?" Ginny was looking pleasantly surprised.

"Err... since always?" She snorted loudly.

He had matured, or rather; he was forced to mature under the state of affairs. He had been taking care of Hermione after their visit to the Malfoy Manor, and as he realised later on, he had instinctively taken Ginny's hand when he saw her hurting. So not like the eleven year old Ron Weasley he knew.

* * *

The next day, Ron saw that his father, Arthur Weasley, did not go to work. He was taking a break and was busy in his garage playing with his muggle toys, fascinated like a kid by the wonders of the less gifted mankind. At last, he came up for lunch at the afternoon, tired and sweating, but with a content smile on his face. His smile slipped a little only when Molly berated him for behaving like a child smaller than even their youngest children. As they finished their meal, he declared that he wanted to test out some muggle-magical hybrid gadget that he had bought on the way home yesterday.

"Ginny?"

"I'll learn cooking from Mum right now, Dad. Sorry!"

"Perce?"

"I am sorry, father. I have to study for OWLs-"

"Fred, George?"

"Err... We have our own gadget to test, dad-"

"-Yeah! And this one will be crackling-"

"-like a big fireworks show!"

At last he turned to him, just like always. He always had been the _last resort_ since he could remember. Sometimes Ron did think that it was confirmed. He really was the _least loved_. Never did he recall having a secret that only he and his Dad shared...

"Ron?" He looked tired of hearing just apologies, his Dad.

"I'd love to!" Ron said with fake enthusiasm, enjoying his Dad's expression turning as pleasant as it had been before, while the others at the table glanced at him more than once.

* * *

Ron still couldn't contain his excitement _. I have a real tree house! Woah! This is as big as my room, maybe even bigger!_

His father wasn't as excited, though.

The gadget was supposed to explode with paint and still neatly colour a whole room. Arthur didn't want to take the risk of switching it on inside the garage, since if it would have malfunctioned he'd have too much work to do while consequently facing the wrath of his wife. Instead, he had walked with Ron towards the trees nearby, and had made a room inside one of those trees with simultaneous Tranfiguration spells and Charms. The room was not visible to passerbies, though.

It was just like the King's Cross Station, where Ron would go to in a month or so.

Unfortunately, the gadget did not work, despite Arthur's repeated attempts. After a while, he had sullenly accepted that he was conned, souring his previously jovial mood.

"Dad, please let it be like this! It'll be my personal tree house! And swear that you won't tell anyone-" Ron suddenly gasped, "It'll be our shared secret!"

Arthur sighed, not in the mood for any of this, just wanting to go back to their home and lie on his bed, "Okay, son."

As Arthur left after a while, Ron was alone in the room. He decided that this would be where he would release his frustrations, scream and swear to his heart's content, as he was doing right now.

After exhausting his voice, he lied down on the floor of his perfectly white and cubical-shaped tree house, having a window by practically begging to his grumpy father, and decided that this will be where he would make his plans to achieve his self-assigned target.

 _This room just needs a constant supply of food and a washroom, and I'll never go outside._ He sighed contently.

* * *

To the surprise of all the inhabitants of the Burrow, Ron Weasley had started studying. While they initially ignored this as the excitement of a new Hogwarts student, they were quite baffled when the youngest male of the Weasleys decided that 1st Year books were not enough for him and he took all the books of his twin brothers to his Charm-protected tree house, who were expectedly very generous. When Molly overcame the shock of this unexpected change, she happily stated that all her children had a good head on their shoulders and _'Hogwarts is lucky to have them.'_

This caused the twins, who were sitting on the dining table at that moment, to cough loudly.

Ron regularly went to Percy's room to ask him questions related to their academics, many of which were too highly-levelled for a first year to understand, and Percy gladly replied to him. Seeing his brother so happy to teach him, even while he was studying for his exams, made Ron feel extremely guilty. He never had asked Percy for any kind of help, and nor did the others, he thought. Percy must have felt like an outsider in his own family, with the constant merciless teasing he received from his siblings, and not being too interested in Quidditch, unlike his other siblings. He hoped to be a better brother this time around, and promised himself to try his hardest to persuade Percy not to leave his family when the time would come. He would avoid the many mistakes he'd made throughout his life. And he wistfully remembered that one particular night, when he had indeed wished upon a shooting star to go back in time and prevent his mistakes. Even Harry wanted to go back and save Sirius. But it was him who got the opportunity to actually do so...

* * *

In the mid-August, the fateful Prefect letter came to the Burrow, carried by a handsome owl from the Hogwarts. Percy started acting even more pompous than usual, and he was to be given his new pet, Hermes, while Ron would have to control his rage around that particular rat he'd desperately tried to avoid for those fifteen days.

"Look at you, lying around and shitting inside your cage,", Ron once taunted Scabbers with a vicious smirk, while trying to control the urge to hex the man responsible for almost everything to pieces, "You're pathetic, aren't you? Can't you keep your cage clean? "

It was not a very wise thing to say, as Ron realised the next morning when he discovered something akin to rat poop on his forehead. _I will get revenge, Pettigrew!_ He shook his fist at the mirror.

* * *

At last, the day did come. 1st September, Nineteen Ninety-One, the day he would start Hogwarts, and his personal quest to become the unknown saviour of the Wizards. The day he would meet Harry and Hermione again.

He was one of the very first to wake up in the Burrow that day, and was dressed before Fred and George came down, cherishing the look on their faces when they realised that the heaviest sleeper in their family had so soundly beaten them.

The Weasleys reached the station a while later. _Harry'll meet us anytime now!_ He mentally exclaimed. They had come near to the passage now. _Anytime..._

But Harry Potter was nowhere in sight. With a start did Ron become conscious of the fact that that in the previous flow of events, he had actually woken up later, and thus had arrived late and thus had they bumped into Harry.

 _Holy Shit! What should I do now? What if Harry meets someone else and we never become friends? Or worse, Harry doesn't meet anyone and is forced to drop a year?_

Beads of sweat trickled down his face. Every little detail was important in his mission. _Can I seriously do this alone?_

"Oops!" He dropped his trunk to save Harry some time. "I can manage! No need to help me..." He proceeded to pick his belongings at an exceptionally slow rate. But his brothers went forward after a few moments, leaving his parents to wait for him with an impatient look. He looked behind him for the last time before sighing and entering the King's Cross.

* * *

 **A/N: Help me! How can I give spaces in thing? Shift+enter never seems to work.**


	4. Chapter 3: The Sorting Hat

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

 **Chapter Three**

 **The Sorting Hat**

He had desperately wanted to cross this passage for the whole infuriating month he had spent at The Burrow. He had eagerly counted off the passing days. Ronald Weasley had, for almost seven hundred and twenty hours, waited for this moment. But now, he didn't even want to touch the barrier between Platform Nine and Ten, not without his best friend.

But he had to. And so, with a terrified heart and a sad expression, he entered the King's Cross Station, willing his legs to move forward and clinging to a flicker of hope that everything would still play out like it had in his past.

A familiar scarlet steam engine and a lot of familiar people in the crowd around it welcomed him. He quickly burst passed them, wanting to avoid everyone. He had probably destroyed whatever chance he had of saving anyone on the very first day of his first year. Looking at those carefree children ecstatic to go to their magical school, while their parents happily waved them off, was too much to bear for him. _I could never save anyone; I just make the world worse..._

With a heavy heart, he slid inside the first empty compartment he saw, and sat down with a defeated expression.

He looked outside the window sullenly, and widened his eyes when he saw a wildly bushy haired girl moving among the crowd with her parents. He stretched his neck to get a better view of her, but she'd unfortunately gone inside the train before he could even see her properly. He saw Neville and Lavender. He kept his focus outside the window and desperately searched for any signs of confirming that Harry Potter had come at the magical railway station. It was then he noticed some children forming a small crowd around Fred and George's friend, Lee Jordan. He remembered this prank; they had transformed his pet frog to a small hairy beast with long black legs...

He suddenly gasped. He theorised that he obviously would have had seen it only after entering the station, which meant that Harry would be standing in front of the barrier around this time. Standing there, looking lost and frantically looking for a board screaming Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

 _There is still some hope for you, Weasley._ He wasn't going to sit around and mope about something that could be fixed so easily. He saw his family standing just outside. Ron came out of his compartment and hurriedly ran towards the next carriage, knocking his legs on some trunks in the way; he didn't pay any attention to his hurting feet.

He discreetly looked out for the other Weasleys, and when he saw everyone paying no attention to his direction, he stealthily slipped past the door near him and ran for the barrier as quick as he could.

 _Black unruly hair..._

Ron took deep breaths and rubbed his aching ankles when he was again on the Muggle railway station. And he did not need to search anymore, since Harry was standing just two feet away, his back towards him.

Ron took a deep breath, tried to calm down his hammering heart, and shouted, "Oi!"

As his bewildered best friend turned around and faced him, Ron felt the need to take a few more deep breaths.

Harry's wide green eyes locked with his own blue ones, and Ron could not help but compare them to the extremely contrasting green orbs he'd last seen. He had seen the frustrated, angry scowl on Harry for years. His eyes would always let know of the pain he was feeling. And the pain in them was too much to bear for any ordinary being.

But these eyes were pain-free, curious and a little scared. He was too innocent right now; he did not know how twisted his fate was. He looked just like any other eleven year old who was going to an unknown place. Ron felt an overbearing desire to hug this _kid_ and shield him from his destiny...

"Err..." Harry started, "you were calling me?" His expression was half-curious, half-desperate.

"Yeah! Um, you're Harry Potter, right?"

Harry's eyes sparkled with hope. "Yeah, that's me!"

"Sorry for staring... but you're Harry Potter, you know? It's the first time I've seen you!"

Harry had an understanding look on his face now, and he nodded once. _It was pathetically easy to read a kid's face..._

"Well, let's hurry up and go to the station, shall we?"

Harry smiled, "I thought they won't send anyone... "

Ron had a sheepish look on his face now. "Well, they didn't. I'd heard you asking the muggles about the platform before entering, and I was worried for you. So, I came back to check. I'm also a first year by the way." Ron extended his hand. "Ron Weasley."

Harry shook it, but frowned shortly afterwards. "But," he began, looking suspiciously at him, "if you're just a student, then how do you know that this is my first year?"

Ron kept his composure. _This is easy._

"Well, a second year won't have any problems finding the station, will he?"

Harry blushed from embarrassment.

Ron then proceeded to hastily show him the way of entering the barrier, and motioned Harry to go first. Watching him gulp, he took his trunk away from his hand and advised him to run at the wall. As Harry entered, he took his trunks and, while saving himself from the oncoming muggle crowd, he entered himself.

The King's Cross was alive with energy as all the parents were tearfully hugging their children. The train was ready to go now. He looked for his old-new friend. "Harry!"

He saw Harry, among the small crowd of first years, looking at Lee's pet before jumping about a foot above the ground when he saw those legs with as black a hair as his own...

* * *

"So, Ron, they were your fourth eldest brothers, right?" Harry asked Ron as Fred and George exited their compartment, being the only other visitors after Neville Longbottom. The train had started a while ago, and their conversation had gone as normal as hoped. The only change this time around was that the twins thought _Ron_ was trying to fool them when he introduced them to the other boy in the compartment.

"Yeah, the funny ones."

A short time later, the food trolley arrived and Harry, as expected, bought all the sweets the lady could sell. Ron mechanically took out his sandwiches and offered one to Harry himself, who seemed to be glowing for get a friend to share his food with. Ron smiled at him before looking at his lunch; his smile faded.

His mother never seemed to remember that he did not like corned beef, just like his maroon jumpers. But he didn't hate her for that. He understood that Molly was always too busy with seven children to notice what her sixth child liked.

He instinctively thought about how he was born. His mother wanted a girl and had only stopped when she got what she wanted. She must have been ecstatic when Bill was born, extremely glad when Charlie came, happy and curious to see an infant Percy behaving pompously. She must have been going insane trying to control the twins. Then he came, and she would have been too exhausted due to all her brothers to notice him. What was new in getting the same result for the sixth time?

Then came Ginny, and Molly could not have thanked her lucky stars enough. She got what she wanted at last, and why would she, after getting what she always desired, need to look at Ron other than to feed him and change his nappies?

"Are you alright?" Harry was concerned.

"Yeah, something came from the window into my eyes... Never mind that. So, Harry, do you know what house do you want to be in?" Ron tried to steer the conversation to a comfortable topic.

"What?"

And Ron started telling him about the houses and Hogwarts in general to avoid thinking about _those_ kinds of memories again.

"There is no good house or bad house, you know?" He said at last, "there are some in Slytherin who were brave, like Phineas Nigellus, a former headmaster, and there are some in Gryffindor who were too cowardly..." He felt Scabbers squirming inside his robes, and stopped himself from crushing him to death...

* * *

Hermione had visited them a short time later, asking about Neville's frog. Ron wondered if she and Neville would have been best friends had Harry and he not saved her from the troll. Her tone was even bossier than usual, and Ron had quite recently known that whenever she was a little scared or angry, she'd use her stiff and bossy tone, which led him to believe that she must be scared about the school even though she had learnt all the books by heart.

Ron noticed Hermione still saying something to an astonished Harry, and tried not to make any eye contact with her. She was a brilliant witch, even at this age, and Ron knew that he would have to be extra cautious around her. But before that, he didn't want to come close to her since it then became physically impossible for him not to touch her.

"Oh, sorry; I didn't ask for your name." Ron looked up from the Chocolate Frog Card he was pretending to read. She was addressing him.

"Don't be, I never asked for yours. Ron Weasley."

"...Pleasure meeting you."

"Well, same to you."

Hermione gave him a surprised look before smiling a little, and he smiled back. Ron was glad that at least he could properly talk to the eleven year old version of his... lover. He knew that Hermione was friendless till now, like Harry, and he wanted his trio to be formed earlier than fate had once allowed to.

As she left, Harry groaned, "I really am going to be the worst student in class."

Ron gave a small chuckle. "Nah, there would be many like you. I already told you."

"Yeah, but you looked like you knew what she was blabbering about. You weren't even surprised, not even a little. I was watching you."

Ron gulped, before an almost satisfactory excuse came to his mind. "Well, she was just like Percy. I am used to people like her by now..."

Harry seemed to accept it. _Gullible Harry._ He asked another question that had got him thinking.

"Ron, why were you wiping your nose so fiercely a while ago? There was nothing on it..."

* * *

Ron was getting restless as they finally saw the mountains and forests outside the window. The train, after some agonizing moments, came to a halt. He and Harry, dressed in their school robes, helped each other to take their trunks out on the station. Ron saw Hagrid, after he had last seen him with Harry's dead body in his arms, bellowing for them as loudly as he had wailed for Harry...

"First years!"

Harry nudged him on the shoulders; he was pointing at Malfoy who scowled when he noticed them. He'd met them in their compartment, too. Everything had been going same as usual until Ron had coolly replied to Malfoy.

 _"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."_

" _No need to feel so low, Malfoy. You are pretty notorious yourself. You father told me that you were born with pink hair, and your parents constantly dyed your hair blonde so that you atleast look like a Malfoy. How would you manage at Hogwarts, though? Will these two bodyguards look after your hair? "_

Harry had laughed, and Malfoy had glared daggers at him, but Ron later on realised that it was the first time that Harry, who had been mentally abused for eleven long years by his muggle relatives, was standing up to a bully. He shouldn't have interfered...

"Cmmon', get on the boats!"

Ron looked at Hagrid. _This was the only time I thought Hagrid was cool._

Ron and Harry got on a boat, and he gave his hand to a surprised Hermione, who was coming on the same boat with Neville. As soon as everybody settled down, the boats started moving towards a cliff. Ron relaxed, while the others looked around themselves with barely concealed excitement. _It is a long trip..._

* * *

"First yers', Professor Mcgonagall."

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

Minerva Mcgonagall had lesser white hair than Ron could ever remember her having. Time wasn't unkind to her; rather the white hair must have been the side effect of the distressing situations Hogwarts had faced since Harry joined. She still looked as stern, though; that hadn't changed.

Mcgonagall led the stressed young students to the chambers, walking stiffly in front of them. It was when, a short while later, as they entered the splendid Great Hall, and The Sorting Hat announced itself to them that their nerves relaxed a little, while Hermione was a little disappointed by the lack of wandwork in their sorting process. But as Ron listened to the Hat's jovial song, he became quite disturbed by a line he had failed to ever notice before, perhaps due to the fact that it was unimportant to him till today.

" _There's nothing hidden in your head_

 _The Sorting Hat can't see."_

The corned beef sandwiches that he ate for his love of Molly were troubling him now. His stomach was churning as his turn was next. He could not relax his nerves, however hard he tried. He was not nearly as terrified in his past during the sorting. Everyone was sorted back in their destined houses. He had forced a smile for Hermione; he had made Harry promise him that he would be his friend no matter what house he got sorted into, with a guilt trap added hastily. _"If you'd like that, you know..."_

"Turpin, Lisa," became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron's turn. He was slightly trembling by now.

" _Weasley, Ronald!"_

Ron sat on the chair, while Mcgonagall put The Sorting Hat on his head. After a few excruciating moments, it spoke to him.

' _Oho! A time-traveller!'_ The Hat's voice boomed in his ears.

Even though he knew that it was inevitable by now, Ron gasped,' _Please, don't tell anyone, please!'_

' _Relax, I'll not. Hmmm, the future... It's pretty dark yet interesting... What, he burned me? That vile maniac-'_

' _Stop it, please. I'll not let you burn, I promise!'_ Ron pleaded, as several students now gained a little interest in his sorting, while Harry was worriedly looking at him.

' _You know, when people remember memories, they wish the past hadn't changed. Nostalgia, you know? You wished the same, and now you are changing your past. That's the ugly truth about those bittersweet memories, the nostalgia. You don't feel it for who you were, but for who you weren't. All the missed opportunities come back to haunt you. Always remember that you are one of the luckiest people to have ever existed, for I certainly would, Ronald Weasley. You have all those opportunities within your grasp again. Hold on to them this time.'_

' _...Thanks.'_

Several whispers had started now. His brothers anxiously looked among themselves and back at him again. Harry was frantically waving at him, mouthing ' _Del-your-hows!'_

' _Tell-your-hows?'_

' _Tell-your-house!'_

The Sorting Hat mused over it.

' _Hmmm. Gryffindor... or Ravenclaw?'_

* * *

 ** _A/N:_ What now? What's your opinion? Ravenclaw or Gryffindor? I've got ideas for both the houses' alternatives, but I'd like to give your suggestions a weightage too. I don't want Hufflepuff because, well, because...**

 **Putting him in Slytherin will make my story too similar to 'Choices' by randomfruitcake04. In it, Ron is a seer and has Nott and Greengrass for friends. Check it out, seriously.**

 **Thanks to Nanettez for pointing out that error. Now, I'd like to clear one thing. I'm not a basher. That Dumbledore thing was from Ron's POV, and after a while, probably as early as second year, he'll begin to appreciate what Dumbledore did. So chill...**

 **Thanks to all the other reviewers & followers & favorit...ers? for supporting my fic. -FBW **


	5. Chapter 4: The Inner Demons

**Chapter Four**

 **The Inner Demons**

" _Gryffindor... or Ravenclaw?"_

Ron's breath hitched. Didn't he come back to, as he had so bravely put it more than once, change the future? Is this how he was to accomplish his goals? By going to a new house, one which he knew nothing about, he won't have anything to work with! No previous friends! No Harry...

Ron screamed mentally, _'Are you insane?! Saw your future, and went senile, maybe? Huh?'_

The Hat just sighed. _'I just gave you an option. I saw your so-called plans, and couldn't help but notice that you'll use your knowledge in your classes too. Furthermore, you actually are an eighteen-year old. You will be more mature than your peers, obviously so. So, wits and wisdom may become the traits that would define you in this life, Weasley.'_

Ron cut in, ' _Even so-'_

' _I did not finish, young man!'_ It said indignantly, _'Being in Gryffindor, you'll be constantly surrounded by your friends and uncountable siblings. They will notice your every move; will question every uncharacteristic stir you make. Won't a different house make it easy for you to go unnoticed?'_

At this, Ron snorted derisively. _'You vastly overestimate my peers' capability to notice me...'_

He opened his eyes and saw the nervous squirming of Harry in his seat, and took in the anxious looks his brothers gave him. The Great Hall was increasingly becoming interested and agitated in equal measures.

Suddenly, the Hat shouted "Gryffind-... hmmm, there's wit and ambition as much as bravery, interesting..."

He saw some students giving him wide-eyed looks. The Ravenclaws began chattering among themselves. ' _Perhaps they think I'm another Charlie or Percy; only if they knew-'_

' _Stop it!'_

' _What? And why did you say all that stuff?'_

' _I was buying some time to talk to you! The people around us are getting irritated. Now, for the other question, stop underestimating yourself, you fool! Get rid of these pathetic insecurities!'_

' _It's not the insecurities that are pathetic...'_ Ron mumbled.

He could feel the Hat getting exasperated. ' _Ronald, you have achieved more than many students I have witnessed, and trust me, I've seen too many. You defeated McGonagall's Chess set in your first year at Hogwarts! You were instrumental in ruining Voldemort's chances of immortality. The second year, as I noticed, you performed a non-verbal spell, something not many sixth years can do..._ '

The Hat replayed one of his most embarrassing memories. 'Blimey!' Ron exclaimed. _The day I threw slugs!_ He had never noticed it. He had been so worked up by his humiliation that particular day; he never even noticed that he'd cast a non-verbal charm!

' _Fourth year fiasco?_ ' The Hat continued its tirade inside his mind, _'Remember that everybody makes mistakes. It was a natural reaction. In fact, Potter, that friend of yours, was also jealous of you becoming prefect even after just becoming the Triwizard Champion! I'd rather call him a selfish git... Fifth year? You won the Quidditch cup even when the whole school cruelly jeered you. That signifies the humongous strength of character you have. Sixth year? You amazed everyone by not letting anyone put a quaffle in your net. No one remembers the last time that happened!'_

 _'Last year? You feel bad for leaving them, but think of what would have happened to Harry if you had not found him in that cold lake. You more than made up for it, my boy...'_

 _'... I get it.'_ Ron said slowly, as his eyes stung a little, _'and thanks for that. I'll not... belittle myself again.'_

 _'You dare not! That ugly mass of insecurities in your head could ruin our chance of a better future!'_

Ron was annoyed by now. _'Okay, now that's done, put me in Gryffindor quickly! We'll have a chat later, promise. And no Ravenclaw business! How will I be friends with Harry and Hermione if- '_

The Hat sighed tiredly. _'You think you won't be their best friend if you are in Ravenclaw? They may replace you? Well Ronald, if you are so replaceable, then why didn't they replace you when you were annoying them with your childishness? Why did they always stick with you even after forming new friendships?'_

Ron was stumped. He tactfully kept silent.

 _'You were the first friend Harry made. You were the first to show him what friendship actually means. You and he share much deeper bond than the histories of these houses. I wish you'd understand that... Farewell for now, Weasley. But remember! Whenever you feel depressed, recall this conversation. And a parting advice would be that Dumbledore is too good a chess player.'_

With that, the Hat drew a breath and shouted "GRYFFINDOR!"

Ron went to the Gryffindor table as a thunderous applause and more than a few exasperated "Finally!"s were uttered. He felt his cheeks warming as he saw Hermione and Harry smiling at him.

* * *

As Ron lied on his bed of six years again after a whole year, he contemplated his day. Shoo away your insecurities? Was it really that easy? The hat didn't know much.

His insecurities were well founded. He was Ron Weasley, a bloke, whose brothers had achieved every imaginable feat, whose father didn't have much to talk with him, whose mother didn't know his favorite color while she could exactly recall what color her daughter's first shoes were.

Then there were his extraordinarily talented friends and their weak-from-one-side trio.

Harry Potter: The Boy who Lived, The Chosen One, DA's Commander.

Hermione Granger: The Brightest Witch of her Generation, Viktor Krum's crush, Hogwarts Staff's Favorite Student.

And then, yours truly.

Ronald Weasley: Pig, Prat, Clumsy Oaf, and generously, mostly called 'That Tall Redhead beside Potter.'

People didn't remember him. They did remember, however, that Harry and his girlfriend were called a couple in their fourth year, and assumed it to be true. So he was Ron Weasley, whose best mate is always mistaken to be shagging _his_ lover, while actually the said best friend is shagging his _sister_.

 _The Hat didn't know anything._

* * *

The next day started as Harry woke him up, a little scared of what his reaction would be. He was currently sitting on the Gryffindor table, eating his breakfast. He struggled with his forks but was determined to not be an embarrassment to Harry, who sat beside him, or his brothers. He'd learn to eat with the right _etiquette_... eventually. Hermione would not be disgusted at him, at least.

He looked at Hermione, who was chatting with Percy some seats away from, and looked away as she noticed him. He would think of a way to become her friend. The first class was McGonagall's, and he had a target for himself. _He_ had to become her favorite student. He will usurp Hermione from her destined position.

The class practically became a battleground for both of them. He raised his hand at every question McGonagall asked, almost mimicking Hermione's movements. He had already gained twenty points. Everybody present in the class could tell Hermione feared such competition, since it was evident from her face, and she would almost spring up at every opportunity, trying her hardest to draw attention to herself without standing up. Until the practical part, their points were levelled. But Ron swept away the elderly professor by transfiguring the matchstick to a needle after seven intentional failures, earning a rare smile from her. Hermione had a gobsmacked expression on her face by the end that Harry, and many others, found funny.

"You are a genius at transfiguration, Ron!" Harry said after the class. His smile clearly looked forced. Ron smirked at the turnaround of events. It felt like a déjà-vu of Sixth year Potions classes, with Ron and Harry exchanging places. Both had an unfair advantage after all...

* * *

The next day, Ron tried to make it up with Hermione. He sat beside her during breakfast and clearly explained that Transfiguration was his favorite class, and complimented her on acing the all other subjects. He declined to be her competitor, and made her promise to help him with his homework. Hermione, at last, gave him a small smile.

"Thank you, Ronald." She said happily, and shook hands with him. Ron had noticed that his young body didn't feel as sexually repressed as his future version's, probably due to lesser quantity of hormones present, however he still continuously felt the need to hold Hermione. He controlled himself, though.

The class that day was Potions, and Ron had warned Harry on how nasty Snape could be. He had told Harry beforehand about the properties of a Bezoar, telling him that it was a frequently asked question by Snape. It was the only question he remembered Harry being asked about, and he felt that Snape may get even more intolerable if Harry would answer all his questions.

The class was unbearable for Ron, though. He felt his blood boil in rage while he simultaneously was frightened by the man who had killed Dumbledore and tortured so many students under his reign. He bit his lip so that he did not shout something he'd regret later...

As the day ended, Ron went to the library to search about some advanced charms and jinxes. He had missed the library. It was only after being chased for a year while feeling worthless about not knowing enough that he came to realize the importance of this place. He vowed to search every page of every single book he could find here. As he sat down with some Protective Charms' books, he heard a familiar voice behind him, filled with amusement.

"In the library on the second day of your school, Mr. Weasley? You certainly are up to something!"

A familiar voice, whose owner never had directly spoken to him.

"I must say I'm intrigued by you after your sorting... "

Standing behind him was Albus Dumbledore himself, and he was interested in him. Ron's voice took off from the window. _Oh, bugger..._

* * *

 ** _A/N:_ Help me! My sister read this and posted a review. That's fine, but she did it with my profile! How can I delete the review? It looks embarassing!**

 **I put him in Gryffindor because I'm already dealing with time-travel. A new house would have made Ron too OOC, and too many underdeveloped characters would have put off many's interests in the story.**

 **BTW, Thank you for all the appreciation! JeanAndBillius even favorited me, as an author! I don't know why either! But thanks Jean, I like your stories too.**

 **That Mr. M guy, fuck you, man. Seriously. :P**


	6. Chapter 5: The Mind Games

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter!**

* * *

 **Chapter Five**

 **The Mind Games**

It was a beautiful autumn afternoon in Hogwarts. A cloudy, breezy day like this was meant to be enjoyed to the fullest, as understandably many students were doing. Harry Potter had gone to meet Rubeus Hagrid, and they both were probably enjoying each other's company, sipping tea and talking about a certain robbery at Gringotts. What Ron Weasley failed to understand was how he ended up in the library at this dreadful moment. What had he been thinking?

"M-Me, sir?" he stammered out. He just could not look Albus Dumbledore in the eye; he could not bear to see those twinkling wise orbs looking at him.

The old Headmaster smiled at him. "You indeed, Mr. Weasley; There are none of yours brothers present here you could be mistaken for."

One of the many reasons he could not look into his eyes was because of Dumbledore's prowess at Leglimency. He continued to stare at the books his hands were filled with, and an almost good excuse came to his mind.

"Nothing, sir," He briefly looked up at the man, and smiled the most innocent and charming smile he could manage, "I was just looking for some Protective Charms to save my personal diary from nosey dormmates!"

His heart was beating so hard that he feared it might cause a panic attack. When Dumbledore spoke, his voice felt like almost agreeing, "Ah, yes. I have known many clever, wise and ambitious wizards to have their personal diaries and journals." He even nodded for the effect. "Clever. Wise. Brave. Ambitious. Loyal. And from what I gather by your class performances, Hard-working and eager to prove yourself. Fine qualities for a single person; probably more than fine, if I must say. You could be a perfect model student, even!"

Ron felt his ears cheeks burning. The way the old wizard had been talking with him had made him feel very uneasy.

"The Hat was rather enamoured by you, Mr. Weasley."

Ron's head was quickly lifted above with an almost audible snap. He knew what 'enamoured' meant. _Stupid Hat!_

Dumbledore was still studying him, gauging him. He could feel him doing so. His heart was hammering; his head felt jittery. He wanted nothing more than to run away from the library. _Blimey, that's why Dad was only given guard jobs at Order!_ He considered that Weasleys probably weren't the most eligible bunch to hold secrets. He was doing such a shabby job at protecting his secrets, and that too in front of the most important wizard of his times. He could feel him being unconvinced. It was then that he noticed something within himself. He could feel him... inside his head!

"Don't, please!" Ron cried out, and the headmaster's eyebrows lifted above, surprised at him.

"What happened, my boy?" His voice was concerned.

Ron was afraid to answer him honestly, but he rationalized that if Dumbledore had made any connection with his brain, he would easily detect his lies, and become even more suspicious.

"Ummm... Sir, please don't try to read my mind. I could feel you inside my head."

He did not dare look up when he spoke that. A little later, Dumbledore voiced his thoughts aloud.

"I have heard that no one likes a stranger to feel his memories. Isn't it true, Mr. Weasley? Happy memories, they help us to live our lives. An essential part of our existence, they are. Our memories are truly ours; created by us, felt by us, remembered by us. Having a stranger go through our most intimately personal belongings at times can, if I dare to immaturely philosophise, even taint our existence. After all, his presence at scenes where he wasn't can almost... 'change our memories', for the lack of a better term."

Dumbledore had begun rambling, he was for sure. _But his ramblings weren't random,_ Ron thought, _could he have seen all my past in such a short span of time?_

He felt very foolish for not having looked up for Occlumency before. There was Dumbledore, and then Snape, two masters of this art, in common sight of him after all.

Ron tried to inflict a casually curious tone in his voice, and he desperately hoped he wasn't transparent in his need to know more about the subject. "Professor, how did you learn Leglimency? Err... I get a creepy vibe from Sn- Professor Snape, at times. It feels as if his eyes bore into me whenever I look at them, you know? And I don't really appreciate someone going through my mind, my reasons being same as what you'd said earlier-"

 _Great, now I'm the one blabbering._

Dumbledore gazed at him for a moment and, after nodding once, replied in his usual, puzzling way. "We can read all the books on it, but it requires repeated practical applications to learn Leglimency, Mr. Weasley. Just like flying, whose lessons start from tomorrow for you. Merlin knows I could never fly properly to save my old white beard." His eyes returned to their twinkling nature.

* * *

It was Thursday, the day of their first flying lessons. The day when Harry Potter would become the first and only first year to be ever selected for his or her House Quidditch team. The Gryffindor first years had all been chattering excitedly. Hermione would be lecturing about every tip she had learnt from books to anyone who would listen to her, which only included the nervous Neville Longbottom.

Ron was visibly amused to see Hermione become so nervous at something so simple. "Hermione," he called out, "We can read all the books on it, but it requires repeated practical applications to learn Flying on a Broom... although you could even be naturally gifted." He added the last part looking at Harry.

"That's not helping, Ronald!" Hermione shrilled indignantly, "I'm just trying to-"

"Motivate yourself? Well then, good luck." Ron said, annoyed. _This woman could be such a pain at times._ He quickly softened his barb when he saw Granger fuming, though. "And remember to be confident. You'll do just fine!"

She blinked, perplexed by the change in the direction of his statement "Err... thanks?"

Harry nudged him and quietly whispered agitatedly. "Why are you always talking to her? Haven't you seen how jealous she is of you? She annoys everyone around her!"

Ron stared at him and whispered, calm, "Because no one talks to her. And also, she can't annoy me; it's not as if I have an emotional range of a teaspoon to be offended by her." He smiled at his own private joke.

Unsurprisingly, his friend wasn't amused."Whatever, but I'd like to tell you that if she starts sitting with us and I go insane by her lectures, you'll be the one to blame."

Ron just sighed, and he didn't attempt to converse with Hermione again. Harry was nervous too, and Hermione had probably irritated him by her constant suggestions about flying.

The rest of the day had been as expected. Harry had again caught Neville's rememberall, and magnificently so. Ron acted the part of an awed best friend decently, but he felt a small surge of envy laced with helplessness. It had been difficult for him to control himself after seeing everyone's awestruck expressions. He wanted to ride the broom and surprise everyone too; he'd wanted to do that even before. The fact that it was so easy to do so this time was what made it a hard pill to swallow. Becoming the first student to play for his house in his first year; becoming the first to do something that would actually be historically important, that would result in his name being mentioned in the Quidditch trivia books. He could have even got a Nimbus Two Thousand. His parents would have been proud of him; his siblings jealous. And the effort needed would be of such a miniscule amount...

Ron was startled out of his thoughts as Hermione directly addressed him, "Why didn't you stop him? He could be expelled now!"

Ron grimaced, and tried to think of something that would be an acceptable reason, would not offend Hermione, but he could not focus when so many emotions were overwhelming him. He pretended to have not listened to her.

Harry came back around evening and excitedly told him all about his Quidditch team selection. He still forced a smile, he still patted his back, _he still remained intentionally overshadowed..._

* * *

Ron decided to put some real effort in forming their Golden Trio, and took a reluctant Harry with him towards the library, where Hermione was supposedly studying in. As they came near the first year books' shelves, he looked for wild bushy hair, and easily found her at one of the nearest tables. He took Harry's arm and pulled him towards the table.

"Hi, Hermione!"

Hermione quickly turned her eyes towards him, a surprised expression on her face.

Ron smiled hopefully, "We were wondering if we could sit with you and do our homework together! But it's okay if you don't want to-"

Hermione surprised even herself with the immediate reply. "All right!" She clasped her mouth shut with her hands.

"Brilliant! Come on, Harry!" Harry grumbled and sat down. Ron knew he wouldn't even have considered it if he wasn't in such a good mood today.

They proceeded to surprisingly do their work smoothly until they reached Transfiguration. Ron had been taking as much help from Hermione as he could for the other subjects. However, Transfiguration was known as his forte by his peers. So, he just helped Harry now and then, who had not spoken to Hermione directly even once. Hermione had noticed his sudden lack of asking too, and knowing her, she intended to show her vast knowledge to her new homework partners.

"Well Ron, I have started reading about the second year's transfiguration, and I'm sad to see that we will continue to read only about Transformation and Switching."

She paused to gauge his reaction, visibly disappointed when he did not look too surprised. Ron stopped himself from snorting.

"By the way, Have you heard about the Ebublio Jinx?" Hermione had an eager expression on her face now. She badly wanted him to answer incorrectly, he thought.

"Yeah, used to make the victim inflate and then explode into hundreds of water bubbles." Her jaw dropped, and Harry sniggered while covering his mouth.

She looked at him, wide-eyed. "You even read the second year books?" She sounded awestruck and exasperated.

"Yeah. Many brothers; many books."

Hermione noticed she was staring at him and looked away at once, a faint blush creeping on her cheeks. She frowned at Harry, who was still chuckling. _Oh no..._

"Well, " She had rounded on Harry now, "I would study even second year's Potion books if I were you. God knows Professor Snape is keen on you. He always asks you so many questions. If I were you, I'd study harder for the subject! But you do not even bother yourself to prepare for his class and then scowl at him when he deducts points-"

Harry abruptly stood up. "That's it!"

He glared at Ron, "I told you she'd be like this! I just came because you had insisted on it, and I don't why _you_ bother trying to befriend her!" He gave a dark glare at Hermione before taking his notes and stomping away. Ron could just sigh. Since she couldn't boss around him this time around, she opted for Harry instead. He looked at the fuming Hermione and sighed again, wondering why on Earth had he become involved in this mess...

"Hermione, lecturing your housemates won't make you any friends..."

She looked furiously at him, "Well I don't need such immature friends who can't realize that I was only trying to help! Books are much more preferable over them!"

He just quirked an eyebrow at her, then said "You know, no one wants take advices by his own classmates. They'd rather follow it if someone older says that, though."

"That's stupid, then." She muttered.

He grinned, "Exactly! And Hermione Granger is not stupid!" She blushed a little again, "She is clever enough to understand that since all the Gryffindor boys in my year are my friends, my advice should be taken seriously. I'm experienced, after all, so you won't ignore my words. You'd not do something you yourself called stupid, would you?"

He had outwitted her.

Granted she was eleven and he was eighteen, but still, he'd savor the moment and her open-mouthed expression.

He became serious after a few moments. "I know you mean good Hermione, and you only want to help everyone. I'm trying really hard to become your friend, but it is getting a little tough now. Harry's my best-friend, and I do not want to choose between you both. So try to be gentle with him. He's brought up by muggles too. You two could talk over that." He hoped that after hearing about Harry's living conditions, she would start sympathizing with him, and maybe soften a little.

Hermione looked at him anxiously, and bit her lip. "So..." she started, "are we friends?"

He held her gaze for some moments, "I'm trying, Hermione. Please try to lighten up yourself." Her shoulders slumped a little.

* * *

The weather was cloudy again. Ron had always liked to roam outside in this weather, as did more than a few students, who were present at the ground too. Harry was too tired after his first Quidditch practice to accompany him...

 _The wind started blowing._

He liked the weekends, and he loved the cold wind which swept past him today. The grass around him swayed, and he felt relaxed, and wanted nothing more than sleeping underneath a tree, under the grey sky; on the beautiful green grass. The weather was amazing.

It had been a week at Hogwarts. A month and a week had passed since he time-travelled. The initial shock and giddiness and worn off. He felt quite bored in the classes, and was exhausted after making so many fake astonished expressions at seeing such low levels of magic. He had to constantly pretend to be interested in what his dorm mates conversed about, and while the attention he'd received after his supposed prodigious skills felt good and new, it was about the only thing which wasn't how he remembered it. He felt unsurprised at almost everything, and he felt too exhausted after holding his act for a week. And there were seven years remaining...

 _The wind blew harder._

Books were life-savers. He had been reading new information, gaining new knowledge. It even helped his self-esteem to grow. He knew he would become insane if the library wasn't there...

He had a small sense of detachment in this world. Of course, it was his world, just rewinded, but he sometimes felt that he didn't belong here. That he should just eat and sleep for the next years, and spring up to save anyone he knows will die at his or her moment of demise.

Many students had gone inside as there was a distinct possibility of raining any second, and the gusts of the icy wind had become stronger. Ron reached a fine looking tree at last, and sat down. The tree stopped the wind from attacking him, and he soon found himself to be one of the only few people outside.

The bonds he shared with his siblings, friends, parents was not how he remembered them. They lacked the warmth he so desperately needed.

 _Cold wind._

There was no one who knew him, the actual him. The way things were going, people would never meet the lazy, clumsy oaf Ron Weasley. He was replaced by a wise and charming, library-loving Ron Weasley, who had made quite an impression on his professors. Who had been congratulated by his proud mother for his accomplishment at the Transfiguration class, who was well-liked among his peers. Who was so unlike him...

He had no one here. He was surrounded by his siblings, his mates, but he was alone. He was alone in his mission.

Now, it was only him outside the castle. Everyone had gone inside.

 _The cold, hard wind blew everyone away, and only he remained._

* * *

After a while, when it actually started raining, Ron was waken from his deep slumber, and he ran towards the castle. His robes were dirty and a little wet, and he swiftly dried them using Charlie's old wand. It was evening. He was standing at the stairs, watching the rain from his window, when he felt someone come up behind him. He hastily turned around, and froze.

Standing now in front of him was Quirinus Quirell, who had a part of Voldemort attached with him. Voldemort, who was a Leglimens, and a powerful one.

"M-Mr. W-W-Weasl-" Quirell never got to finish his sentence as Ron hurriedly ran towards the Gryffindor Common Room, leaving him standing there, bewildered.

As Ron came near the Fat Lady portrait, he came to a halt and drew deep breaths, and forced himself to calm down. ' _Dammit!'_ He thought irritably, _'I completely forgot about him! He's more dangerous than Dumbledore or Snape!'_

He had only finished one book about Occlumency, and now knew that thankfully, not even the most powerful wizards can read a mind in a short span of time. The most they can read in such a few seconds is almost half of the day you met them. So his secret wasn't out, yet. He had to learn Occlumency, and learn it quickly. But the question was, how?

* * *

 **A/N: Wow! 5 chapters and 50 reviews! You guys are excellent! BTW, If you know about a story where Ron is sorted into any other house instead of Gryffindor, please let me know! I'm dying to read a Ravenclaw Ron fanfic. Can some generous reader attempt one? I'll post a review every 3 days, promise!**


	7. Chapter 6: The Unfamiliar Guilt

**Chapter Six**

 **The Unfamiliar Guilt**

 _They were laughing. All of them had gathered a group around him. And they were laughing._

 _Ron didn't understand at first. Who were they? But he still cracked a smile, a small smile. Laughter is infectious, after all. So many people laughing; it's bound to have a cheerful effect. His smile became bigger. Soon, a perplexed chuckle escaped his mouth._

 _But then he noticed the pointing. They were pointing at him. They weren't laughing with him. They surely weren't laughing at his antics. They were laughing at him. Their faces; he noticed their faces closely. They were his housemates, his friends, his siblings. They were laughing at him. Pointing at him; mocking him. All traces of a smile vanished from his face. He felt humiliated; he felt his ears burning. Why? Why were they mocking him?_

 _He suddenly realized he knew why._

" _Fred! George!" he bellowed, trying to make his voice audible through the mocking jeers he was surrounded with. "What did you do to me?"_

 _He saw his twin brothers, both twenty-years old, looking at him with amusement. "We didn't do anything, Ronniekins. Not much, I mean." George said, in a frustratingly calm voice. Fred didn't say anything; he continued to just stare at him, smiling evilly._

" _Bullshit! What did you do?"_

 _George smirked. "You really want to know? Well, we invented an Apparator, a device which could help dunderheads like you to transport without splinching yourselves. So, since we made it for you, we first tried it on you! I stuck the device on your bed, and Fred here muttered the charm, and Viola! Your bed is transported to the common room! It's not actually apparition, but Harry and Hermione are relieved."_

 _At this, Harry snorted. He looked exactly like he did the time he went to Hogwarts to find the hocrux. "Yeah, mate. At least we won't have to drag your sorry arse like we did when you clumsily splinched yourself, and that too during our mission. It's a life-saver for both of us."_

 _Ron knew his whole face would be the shade of red by now. But it didn't - why they were laughing so hard..._

 _With a horrible jolt, he quickly looked at his body, and his stomach churned. He wasn't wearing anything. They were laughing at his naked body._

 _"God, look at those ugly scars-"_

 _"He looks so gangly-_ _"_

 _"Weird!"_

 _"Look at his 'thing'-"_

 _His eyes were stinging. He wanted nothing more than to dig up a hole and cry for days. He saw Hermione, looking as beautiful as ever, shaking with laughter._

 _"Honestly, Ronald, I can't believe I kissed you. You- you look so disgusting!"_

 _He never believed that just words could give him so much pain. It couldn't have hurt more if his heart had been ripped off his chest._

 _Suddenly, he_ _watched a dark shadow appear behind Fred, who was busy enjoying himself, and take him away near a sofa. No one else noticed._ _Another shadow came behind Harry, and took him to the same sofa. And then, the next thing he saw was a huge chunk of the roof crushing them to death! He saw their lifeless, blood-stained corpses underneath the mess-_

"NO!"

Ron woke up, feeling nauseated. He was sweating rather heavily. He was in the same bed, but he noticed he was clothed. It had been a twisted dream, just one of the many creations of his twisted mind. The curtains of his bed were pulled apart, and he saw a worried Harry standing at the edge of his bed. Of course, he would be the first to come, just like the noble knight he is.

"What happened, Ron?" He asked, concerned.

Ron took a few deep breaths, and managed to croak out a "Nightmare-" before shuddering violently. He was in no state to weave stories and manage convincing lies...

"...Was it the dog?" Harry questioned him again.

Ron sat up straighter and glared at Harry. "It's over, Harry. I'm okay now. Don't ya dare tell anybody about this!"

Harry backed away, and raised his arms in surrender. "Okay, alright..." He said slowly, and went back to his bed.

Ron pulled his curtains back, and sighed. He ruffled his hair. _What a strange dream_.

He used to have these dreams when he slept wearing that ruddy locket. He had felt depressed, angry, humiliated and many more emotions he never knew he could feel so strongly had welled up inside him. He used to take his frustrations out on Harry and Hermione back then, who had fortunately not made much of it. _You still lashed at Harry again, idiot._

There was a hocrux present inside the castle at the moment, and Ron wanted to be as far from it as possible. The Ravenclaw diadem was resting in the Room of Requirement, along with hundreds of other things the students had hidden there. He reckoned that being possessed by a hocrux in his situation would be a bad idea. Furthermore, he could not exactly barge in Dumbledore's office and borrow the Gryffindor's Sword without raising suspicions...

 _"Mr. Weasley, why do you want the sword, exactly?"_

 _"Why, to cut potatoes, professor!"_

Hmmm. And he could not open the Chamber Of Secrets since the Basilisk would be very much alive, and perhaps slithering under a certain washroom at the moment. He instantly shivered at the thought.

His mind went back to the dream he had. He remembered that the faces of his friends had been rather blurry. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he realized that he could not totally recall how their faces actually looked like. He actually didn't even remember how his adult body felt like. He did not have any photos of them, and looking at their young faces wasn't helping matters either. He could not even remember Hermione's face properly...

He shook his head, trying to block these thoughts, when he got a rather unconnected and surprising idea. _Why not block every thought?_

The first step to be even eligible for Occlumency was to have a good control of your feelings. He also had to have the capability of blocking every thought from his mind, to completely clear his mind at a whim. Those who could do that had the ability to easily become good Occlumens, and Ron knew that in order to prevent Voldemort and Dumbledore from reading his mind, he had to at least be as exceptional as Snape, which could be considered an almost impossible task. Sighing, he shook his head, and tried meditation for the first time in his life.

 _Think of nothing._

His thoughts went back to that day. Malfoy had challenged Harry to a duel, and Hermione had went with them, calling them 'idiots' countless times during the journey. They had seen Fluffy in all his glory, and unsurprisingly ran for their lives till the Fat Lady portrait. Neville hadn't joined them this time, though, and they only met him when they returned. Hermione was angry and disappointed at him for falling for such a trick... _Damn._

 _Great going, retard! Think of NOTHING!_

Ron mused over it. If he was thinking of not thinking about anything, then wasn't he still thinking of _something?_

 _Shit, my head hurts!_

After a few more agitating minutes, he went back to sleep.

 _I can't... I really can't. It's worthless._

 _..._

 _C'mon, you can. You can do this. You have to do this._

It was Twenty-seventh October, and Ron had almost completed two months in Hogwarts without anyone finding about his secrets. This had given him a new hope that he _could_ achieve his goals, and could save many people from their terrible fates. He had been constantly reminding himself of the reason he was trying to change the future, and had pleasantly found that he worked well under pressure, presumably since he was a good chess player and could think of strategies even in extreme situations. He had, at least in his humble opinion, made remarkable process in terms of clearing minds and blocking thoughts. The only fact that bothered him was that he still could not find any way to properly learn Occlumency. However, he theorised that Voldemort must have learnt this by himself, in his school days nonetheless to avoid Dumbledore finding about his true nature, and Ron was disturbed by the fact that he and Tom Riddle had something in common. Recalling this, he became a little irritated with himself, and he closed his eyes while taking a deep breath, wanting to see exactly how much control he had over his emotions.

 _Think of nothing._

 _Concentrate on your breathing. In, and out. In, and out._

After a few moments, he was visibly relaxed. He had stopped concentrating on anything, and actually thought of nothing for over fifteen minutes.

 _Sweet Merlin! I've done it!_

And the spell was broken again.

He heard something squeaking at his bed. He opened his eyes, and saw Scabbers eyeing him curiously. The rat had come on his bed even when he placed it at the floor. Peter Pettigrew needed to be dealt with before he'd give in the urges to kill him.

* * *

"Woah, George! Is that-"

"I think he is, Fred-"

"I can't believe it is actually him, our dearest brother-"

"Our tiny know-it-all-"

"Ickle prodigy-"

"Ronniekins!"

Fred and George had cornered him the first thing in the morning. Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World, had left him there and went to the breakfast with Hermione, probably thinking along the lines of giving the family a personal moment. He was taking deep breaths trying to concentrate on his breathing, clearing his mind, and had thankfully not gone red till now. But he didn't believe that only two months of meditation could help him rise above his brothers' taunts.

"And what would you know, George? Our little brother has even got himself a girlfriend! Aren't they adorable together?" Fred mock-cooed.

George let out a wolf whistle. "I've heard that they are seen cuddling together and reading from the same book! Nothing tops that in terms of romance!"

Ron glared at them both. "No one asked about your worthless opinions!" He then snorted derisively, "Do you think that just because you sleep in same beds you've got a love life? That's not love, that's illegal and disturbing!" He then dashed past them and ran to the Great Hall as fast as he could, eager to have his insult not be ruined by an expected good retort. Unluckily, it seemed as if the heavens were testing his limits of patience as he crashed straight into a strong-looking fellow.

"Weasley! Look at you, running like a love-sick puppy for Potter. You're quite pathetic, seriously." A familiar voice taunted him. And he was worse than Fred and George.

He mentally groaned; he just had to bump into one of Malfoy's bodyguards, who he noticed had been Vincent Crabbe.

He just ignored Malfoy, as Crabbe was looking murderously at him. "Watch where you go, Weasley!"

Ron cheekily smirked at him. "Ah, how was I supposed to know an ugly troll will come out of nowhere in corridors? Forgive me, _Crabby_!"

To his surprise, Crabbe actually understood that he was mocking him, and pushed him, causing him to stumble backwards. This day officially became terrible for him now.

 _That's it! I'm done being calm!_

As the burly Slytherin came towards him, Ron hopped back to his feet and punched him hard on his jaw. And it was Crabbe's turn to fall back, as Malfoy continued looked at the scene with a bewildered look. Ron's fist was aching unbearably, but he put up a strong front for his small audience that had gathered, among whom were the Twins.

"Woah, mate! Great one!" They both chorused, and gave him a thumbs up.

A stern voice was heard behind them. "What's happening here? Move!"

Ron groaned as he saw McGonagall making her way through the crowd to inspect the matters herself. As she saw Crabbe lying on the ground with a swelled-up jaw, and him rubbing his sore hand while standing a few inches away, she gasped. It didn't help that Malfoy was pointing his trembling finger at him with a scared face, while Goyle's face was scrunched up in concentration, probably trying to figure out what had happened before him. He looked up to see McGonagall looking at him in horror, confusion and disappointment.

"Never had I expected- Why-" She cleared her throat. "Mr. Weasley! Detention, now! Come with me. I don't think you would mind missing your breakfast. Mr. Malfoy, you and Mr. Goyle may take Mr. Crabbe to Madam Pomfrey." She turned towards the crowd, "Rest of you, start moving!"

The twins continued grinning at him, and loudly snorted when they saw Malfoy trying to move Crabbe to no avail, as Goyle still was coming to terms with the situation. _Funny, I was expecting her to give me the position of a troll tamer. Can this day get any worse?_

He silently followed a fuming McGonagall, and when they reached her office, she gave him a huge stack of parchments to sort out as punishment. He discreetly cast a Silencing Charm at his stomach, making sure that its grumblings would cause him no embarrassment later.

"If you still do not realize, Mr. Weasley," She started as she sat down in her chair, "I am very disappointed in you. I still find it hard to grasp that you could do such a thing. You have been an excellent student so far, and not just in Transfiguration, and I was very proud of you until this moment."

Ron had the decency to look regretful. "I apologize, Professor. I-I couldn't control my emotions. I regret it. I'll personally ask Crabbe for pardon."

She nodded, and he sighed in relief. As he continued working, his mind wandered through the months he spent till now, and how little had he actually done. Most of his time had gone in reading books about Occlumency, which sadly only provided the basic information about the art, and concentrating on avoiding people like Snape and Quirell. He looked up at the lady sitting in front of him again. He was probably one of her favorite students. Could she help him?

"Professor," He addressed, "I was reading about Occlumency in the library, and couldn't help but wonder if we are taught about it in the school. Do we even learn it here?"

She started at the sudden question, and took off her reading glasses before replying. "I'm afraid not, Mr. Weasley. Occlumency is a rare art few can grasp. People who can control their emotions are exceptional in it, while the more expressive ones never manage to be any good. It would be unfair to them if such a topic is included in the curriculum. I am acceptable in the arts, both Occlumency as well as Leglimency, since I had managed to learn how to lock away my emotions much before than I learned mind-blocking."

Ron gasped. "You mean you've learned it?" He went a little pale. Did she find out his true intentions? He quickly tried to clear his mind of every thought. _Has every professor learned Leglimency?_

McGonagall, however, gave no indication that she knew it and continued, "Yes; during the First Wizarding War, people had started learning both, so as to identify the ones who could be trusted from others. Also, Occlumency is the only way to counter Veritaserum, which made it popular on both sides. Unfortunately, this popularity meant that using Veritaserum during trials at Wizengamot was no longer the best solution, and as a result no person was given a fair trial during those times."

Ron started to think about what the professor said. _So this was the reason Sirius wasn't given a fair trial._ Another thing struck his mind. _Hey, my family was in the Order too! Maybe not Mom, but Dad may know something about mind-blocking!_

He decided to ask her first. "Ummm, professor," He started, his voice meek, "my parents fought too. Does my father, by any chance, know Occlumency?"

McGonagall looked at him curiously, before replying, "No, Mr Weasley. Arthur was a lot calmer than Molly, but whenever he would be taunted, he got embarrassed and angry too easily. But why are you so interested in it, if I may ask?"

He sighed. He knew this question would be asked as soon as he opened his mouth in front of her. He had been thinking about a lie good enough for all this time. He also knew that McGonagall may catch him if he lied, so he decided to mix some truth in his words, truth that was uncomfortable to share with others. He looked down at his worn out shoes, replying carefully.

"I just wanna learn it, professor. I think... that I have no control over my emotions at all. Most of the times, I speak without thinking, and hurt others. I get angry, jealous, embarrassed too easily. And I hate that everyone can figure it out at once, due to the reddening of my ears and cheeks. I really hate having such a pale skin. I can't manage to lie without being caught. And I let others get under my skin really easily. They mock me, and I can't think of a decent reply. I know that even now, my skin would be colouring and I'd be looking like a tomato. I... hate that. I got angry with my brothers teasing me, and I got angry when Crabbe pushed me. And punched him."

He felt his tears welling up, and he didn't dare look up after that. _God, As if this could get anymore humiliating._ "And there's a reason that they can taunt me so easily. My family is poor, my mum looks like this, my father works there, too many kids, small house, and whatever. I always think of those things, and get sick of myself for even thinking like that. So, I take my anger out at others. But I don't want to... I just thought, Occlumency might be the way to block these things from my head. Instead, it can be learned only when you know how to block these thoughts. Funny, innit?"

After a few more humiliating moments, McGonagall spoke up. "Ronald," He was startled at hearing his name, and hastily wiped his eyes with his sleeve, "These problems... You have to deal with them on your own. Your brothers, I know you must dislike being compared to them, but they were not much different at first. William, Charlie and Percy, they all found success, set their minds on something and finally respected themselves when they achieved their goals. Everyone is, mostly, like that. You may have it hard, being Mr Potter's friend, but if you set your target and get what you desired, your self esteem will improve. You won't care what others think about it. Occlumency can, however, teach you to better conceal your feelings. But that's only a part of what you want."

"Sorry," Ron said, his voice hoarse, "I got a bit carried away."

"It's alright, Mr Weasley. Now, off you go. Your classes are about to start."

Ron nodded and walked to the door, before he remembered something. "Professor, how can you confirm if someone is an animagus or not?"

"Oh!" McGonagall exclaimed, "You've even read about Animagi? I must say I'm impressed." _Maybe she thinks this poor sod needs all the compliments he can get,_ Ron thought. "There are many ways. Why so?"

"Err, I think my rat's an animagus, professor." She quirked an eyebrow. "I mean, my suspicions are well founded. It's been alive for 12 years, and never seems to age. It's almost aging like a human. And there's the fact that it can understand us."

Ron could see her considering his claims. "A rat for twelve years... And still doesn't seem to be dying any time soon."

 _Oh, it will die when you know who it is._

"I will ask Professor Dumbledore about it. We'll take a look at your rat. Now, go."

* * *

Trolls, they were ugly, and smelly, and giant, and dumb. Ron did not have much of a soft spot for them in his heart. But he vehemently disliked the situation he was in. It was Halloween. And he had to think of something to meet the troll today, for he dreaded that if things did not happen as before, there was a chance that Quirell might get his hands on the Stone. But, he could not make himself hurt Hermione deliberately. He had done enough of it in their seventh year together, even if she didn't know it as of now. Which led to his current dilemma.

"... Hey, Hermione."

"Yes, Ronald?" She returned brightly.

Now was the time to do something, since it already was dusk, and they were alone in the corridors. Maybe he could put Stun her, then throw her in the girl's washroom in the dungeons, and put a Memory Charm at last, to prevent her from announcing him as the culprit...

 _Blimey, you're really desperate, Weasley._

"Hermione," he mock-groaned, "It's Ron- not Ronald. _Please."_

"Oh, alright, Ron," she mock-huffed; he'd brought out her playful side at last, "what do you want?"

Ron stammered, "Ummm... err..."

Hermione looked at him, confused. "What happened, Ron?" she asked softly.

"Nothing! Nothing at all!"

"Oh, well, if it is nothing..." she said, sceptically, "then I am going to the library. Call me when it's time for the feast. See you!" And hence, she bolted towards the library, leaving Ron disgruntled, and even more confused than usual.

...

The students and staff had begun sitting for the Halloween Feast, but Ron still could not find Hermione. Harry had already started filling his plate. And it was then that Ron got a workable idea. "Harry?" He called his friend.

Harry looked towards him. "Yeah?"

"Finish your plate fast. I've got to tell you something exciting tonight."

"Like what?" He looked at him, surprised

"Oh, some news about a certain three-headed dog..." Ron said smugly. And he needn't say anymore, since his friend's green eyes lit up and he began filling his mouth like a giant hungry for days.

After a few minutes which felt like hours for Ron, Harry finished his dinner. They noticed that Hermione still had not come down to the Hall. "Harry," Ron said, bringing some panic in his voice, "we've got to find Hermione first. Come on!"

"Where will we find her?"

Ron paused. "Err, she'd told me in the evening that she was going to the library, or the dungeons. I don't exactly remember. You go to the dungeons, I'll look for her in the library." His noble but gullible friend nodded. And Ron looked away from him, not being able bear how innocent and trusting Harry was. He ran towards the library.

Later, as he'd apologized to Hermione and were going to the dungeons when Ron couldn't help but ask her, "Don't you find the school too silent?"

She huffed, "Maybe the students have returned back to their common rooms and we are late." She gave him a small glare, which Ron ignored, making her even more annoyed. That hadn't changed in their relationship. He still was the one who annoyed her the most. Only she couldn't...

They froze in their tracks as they heard something huge moving around, guessing from the loud footsteps. "Harry," Ron hissed at Hermione, "we've got to find him." They hurried to the place where they heard the loud noises, and crinkled their noses as they smelled something ghastly. As they reached the turn in the corridor, they saw something truly terrifying. Hermione jumped back in shock when she saw the big troll, moving his menacing club leisurely.

Ron looked at her, terror written all over his face. "Hermione, h-he's got Harry under him!"

And Hermione became even more terrified when she saw Harry standing in front of the troll, frantically waving his wand and muttering charms against the foul creature, whose club was longer than Harry...

"GYAAH!" She shrieked a loud, piercing scream, and the troll turned towards her, moving as soon as he found her, smashing the walls of the dungeons in the process. Ron pulled out his wand and waved at him, but the spell just hit him and was reflected back.

"Harry! Can you move?" Harry nodded, and he sighed in relief. "Follow what I do!"

He pointed Charlie's old wand at the biggest piece of rock he saw and shouted, "Wingardium Laviosa!" and flew it above the troll's head, and swiftly dropped it. The troll fall down on his knees, stupidly shaking his head and slowly blinking his eyes, but as Harry proceeded to drop the second rock, he passed out.

As Harry came near them, both the boys looked at Hermione, who was sobbing quietly, having frozen at the sight of the troll. Ron nodded at Harry, who then cleared his throat. "Umm, Hermione, thank you for saving my life... And sorry if I was ever mean to you." Harry patted her on the shoulder awkwardly, and she immediately hugged him, surprising both of them, and cried even harder. And Ron knew that they had formed a deep bond today, just like before. He ought to be happy now. But what was the sickening churn in his stomach for?

...

Harry had fallen asleep as soon as he hit the bed, exhausted and understandably so. Ron couldn't. There was an unfamiliar type of guilt growing inside him since he'd seen a scared eleven-year old Harry battling the ugly troll.

 _Harry could have been killed! How could I do this? Stupid! Worthless! What a damn good job of saving his life. I knew there was a troll, and I still let him go. No! I sent him there! I effing sent him there! Why couldn't I just take Quirell down while concealing myself? If Harry or Herm- If 'my' Harry or Hermione were in my place, they could have done something better! So much better!_

After almost an hour of berating himself, he realised that his behaviour was unhealthy and exactly what could end up in 'messing him up'. So, he tried to shift his focus towards other things he noticed today.

One thing he could not understand was that how Quirell was able to summon a troll inside the castle when apparition wasn't possible for anyone besides the Headmaster. After giving it much thought and coming up with various theories, he found the answer: house elves. House elves were the only beings who Ron knew could apparate inside the castle. They could easily bring a troll inside, eager to fulfil their masters' wishes. Not many people knew about it, dismissing elvish magic as harmless, even- _Wait, even Voldemort doesn't know this about elves, which means this theory is shot down too._

But as he continued to think about the house elves, he realised that they were the best options for doing something like this. Elvish magic was, in some ways, superior to Wizard's wandwork. Very few people knew that.

 _Why not use it to your advantage?_

He stealthily got up from his bed, and performed three layers of Disillusion Charm on himself, and after a Silencing Spell, he went to the Hogwarts Kitchen. As he reached there, he saw the house elves cleaning up plates, cutting vegetables and other ingredients to be used for preparing their breakfast the next day. He removed the spells over himself and the elves were immediately startled to see him there. An elf quickly ran towards him.

"M-Master! Does master need anything? Some food?" He asked excitedly.

"Actually," Ron said, in calm tone, "I wanted to ask something from you all..."

All the elves were looking at him now, giving him their sole attention.

"Does anyone here know Occlumency?"

They immediately started looking towards each other, wanting someone to answer an affirmative. And there was a "Yes sir!", that could be heard somewhere behind them. An old elf who was sitting and washing cups stood up.

"I do." She said.

Ron grinned. _Brilliant._

* * *

 ** _A/N: Yes! 69 Reviews! I always loved that number. So, it's been 10 days since I updated, but this is my longest chapter. The reviews for the last chapter were amazing, almost 20 of them! Thank you so much!_**

 ** _Now, I don't like explaining my story, but I've been reading it since the 2nd chapter. My Ron is not more mature than canon. Ron had greatly matured after coming back for the hunt, and here he feels disconnected from others, so he won't be that pressurized to perform. Also, knowing the future makes him a little more confident. Inside, he's still the same, and you'll get glimpses of him whenever a situation is very unfamiliar to him._**

 **Curious guy: _I'm not much of a R/Hr shipper. I find Hermione really cruel. She's insulted Ron the most: calling him arse, pig, insensitive wart, emotional depth of teaspoon, always being critical of him, physically abusing him twice, and putting studies and Harry ahead of him. Comparing this to Ron, the most the bloke's said to her is 'nightmare', 'fraternizing with enemy' and that's all. The fics that show Hermione as a perfect mature woman and Ron as some sort of asshole disgust me, and I find myself shaking my head thinking about the brains of these guys. The problem Ithink is that many reading, fanfic-writing girls relate themselves to Hermione and she is always made to be right. (Rowling herself is one such woman.) But the fact is that only R/Hr fics don't bash him, and I have to read them. (Recommend me some good fics of other pairings). Although, the R/Hr shippers make Hermione less cruel and critical, and wee bit too sweet, and I find myself enjoying the pairing._**

 ** _Boy, I've got to stop myself from ranting like you. The pairings are 3 years away. Hermione may become sweeter, Ron may fall out of love. I won't tell you. As for your other concerns, I've thought about them all beforehand (leading me to wonder how much I've thought about this fic) and I hope you'll like it. For the Ravenclaw part, read the next rant._**

 **chocolate queen _: As you may have noticed, I'm trying to make my fic more believable, focusing on thoughts of a time-traveller more than the action. Even the time-travel will be explained after a few chapters. Now, half of the reviewers had voted for Ravenclaw, and as I thought about it, there were two problems. Ron won't want to be in Ravenclaw. And the hat won't impose his decision if Ron is begging him to go to Gryffindor. I couldn't bring myself to write that. It would've killed my interest in this story. Perhaps another fanfic of mine may explore that..._**

 ** _The last 2 gust reviewers, I'm sorry but I couldn't understand what you'd written..._**

 ** _Thanks! -WW_**


	8. Chapter 7: The Traitor's Revelation

_**I don't own Harry Potter. Do NOT sue me.**_

* * *

 **Chapter Seven**

 **The Traitor's Revelation**

The ground was green, the sky was red. Opposition was green, they were red. Slytherin was green, Gryffindor was red. Severus Snape was green, Minerva McGonagall was red. Half the stadium was green, the other half was red. His eyes were green, Harry Potter was red. Draco Malfoy was green, his face was red. The eyes were green, the monster was red. Jealousy was green, anger was red.

"And Harry Potter has caught the snitch! Gryffindor wins!"

He had no visible green, but his hair was red. Perhaps, due to the cold, his face was red. His face was red. His hair was red, his scarf was red. The ugly green of jealousy was buried deep within his heart, as he saw his friend catch the shiny golden snitch and win the game for Gryffindors. But his heart was mostly red. He was Ron Weasley. _I must be looking like a tomato right now..._

Cunning was green, but the red passion overcame its enemy today. The sullen, subdued were green, the wildly cheering were red...

"Yes! YES!" Even his uninterested-in-sports bushy-haired best friend was consumed in the euphoric joy half of the audience was showing. Hermione Granger, with her pink cheeks and brown mane, broke Ron's two-colored daze, and was seen screaming with joy, chorusing with other supporters, totally oblivious to the effect she had on him. He could not resist giving the unsuspecting girl a quick hug, at which she gasped softly. She had stiffened immediately. Ron broke their embrace hurriedly to gauge her reaction, feeling a little foolish for forcing their close contact. She was blushing wildly, staring at him with wide eyes, but he relaxed when she gave no indication that she was displeased with him in any way.

They hurried down to the ground, and cheered the loudest for a sheepishly-grinning Harry. After what seemed like an hour, the crowd had thinned, and the only the most fanatic supporters were cheering for their victory. On his way back to the castle, Ron noticed some third-year Gryffindors shooting fireworks in the sky, scaring the birds near them. The nature was green, the explosions were red.

As the three friends were walking in the corridors, it seemed as if Hermione had forgotten her recent embarrassment, since she was excitedly telling him about how 'horrid' Snape had been, trying to kill Harry in his first Quidditch match, and how they had saved his life by setting Snape's robes on fire. It was at this point that he interrupted her, telling Harry that it was all her, which wasn't a lie at all. Ron had been silent throughout the match, since the moment he'd explained to Hermione the basic rules of the game. He did not want to risk this moment at all; it was at this time that the trio had begun to distrust Snape, and that had led to their quests and desperate measures to find out about what Fluffy was hiding and how to save it from being stolen. Besides, as Ron bitterly thought, he hadn't done much at this point even in his past, gaping like a fish when Harry lost his control on the broom, and when prim-and-proper Hermione had burned their Potions' professor's robes to save her friend's life.

Harry looked deeply thoughtful when the story ended; he had already known that someone had bewitched his Nimbus, and knowing it was Snape wasn't very surprising to him at all.

He looked at their female friend with deep gratitude. "Thanks, Hermione. You saved my life again."

Harry had been very friendly with her since the troll attack. In turn, Hermione had considerably softened towards him. Ron guessed that seeing him so close to being crushed to death had certainly got something to do with that. Their friendship was deepening, and he was grateful for it. They were almost as they were before; the only change was that they both looked at him with a hint of respect in their eyes, and Ron felt very uncomfortable with it. He was happy being only there to provide some comic relief, like before. This was new, and this was terrifying. They now expected something from him, even his teachers, and he never had to shoulder the burden of expectations ever before. It was too foreign for him.

And his famous git-of-a-best-friend had made things even more problematic for him. Harry always felt uneasy due to the constant stares and whispers. Things had really gone downhill for him since he became the youngest seeker ever seen in Hogwarts. If it was possible, the troubling whispers had increased. So, to deflect some attention from himself, he had told the other housemates about how he had encountered the troll, and how Ron had 'single-handedly thrashed' the brainless giant, keeping his involvement to the minimum. This news had spread like wildfire, and the others' interests in him as a person had only inflamed as Professor Flitwick had unintentionally confirmed that he was present at the dungeons, with an unconscious troll and two frightened friends. The students finally began to see why Harry Potter was roaming around with the likes of him. They even started gossiping about how they knew he could 'do big things' after his unnaturally long sorting process.

And Ron hated every moment of his situation. _Figures I'd get popular when I want it the least..._

Fred and George had been unbearable, teasing him mercilessly on his 'heroic personality', and being as close as they could be to telling how proud they were of him. Ron never liked knowing that the Twins were proud of him; it brought back memories very painful for him to bear...

...

That evening, the Gryffindor common room was lit up with smiling faces and wild celebrations for having won against Slytherin after a long time. Every student, from tiny first-years to the NEWT aspirants were present. Ron sneakily slid past the door and ran away to the kitchen, from where he fetched a smiling Lucy.

Lucy was an ancient house-elf, and had belonged to a person by the name of Augustus Rookwood. The Rookwood family might have been one of the better pure-blood families, since Lucy did not stutter like Dobby, and was more confident in herself than normal for the elves. The family had taught her Occlumency so that she wouldn't be possessed by a wizard, and no one could find out how or where they lived. She had learned Leglimency on her own so that she could help her master in whatever he was doing. In the end, she landed up here, so Ron assumed that the Rookwoods must have been wiped off from existence during the war, without anyone knowing what they did, probably.

They came to the Room of Requirement. Ron had already conducted two 'private training sessions' here, in which Lucy had explained to him how to prepare for a mind-violation. She had told him about the tells of a mind-attack, and he had learnt to recognise them when she had initiated some herself. Today was a day when he would know how it would feel someone actually attacks your mind with force.

"Umm, master, would you like it for an attack now?" Her voice was meek, fearful, but the nervousness he generally heard from the elves was absent. Rookwood was a good man.

He stopped himself from snorting at her framing of the question, and nodded. Now was not the time for foolish jokes. The elf nodded.

" _Leh-JILL-ih-mens!"_

Ron got the feeling of Lucy's wide, big eyes piercing him, gazing at him hauntingly, unflinching. He felt the pull, and then his mind was being ransacked, as he could feel. He tried pushing her away, but, to his immense horror, he couldn't, no matter how forcefully he tried. Suddenly, he had the experience of having a memory revisiting him, playing itself in front of his eyes.

 _Petrified Hermione. She was so close to death. She was so lucky to have survived. She was so daft to have been roaming around at a horrible time like this._

 _Ron just stared at her, while she lay on her hospital bed, unmoving. It was the first time he saw her without being interrupted, without being called out for staring and creeping her out. He wished she would just open her eyes any moment, crying over the pile of homeworks and lamenting the loss of not attending the boring classes. He would gladly exchange their positions, for reasons more than what were obvious. He sat near her, and took her cold hand in his warm ones, hoping it would elicit a reaction from her. Nothing changed._

The memory changed.

 _Ron and his family had just come home through the portkey after watching the World Cup, and unfortunately witnessing the Dark Mark. His mother must have been a worried mess. As his dad knocked on the door, it quickly opened to reveal Molly, who was looking very disturbed, with her hair not combed and dark circles under her eyes, presumably from not getting enough sleep. As she saw Arthur, tears welled up in her eyes and she flung herself to him. She proceeded to hug Ginny, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Hermione, the Twins, and then did she come near him. As he half-raised his arms, his mother, his own mum, ran **past** him to hug a surprised Harry._

 _He could not help but stare at her back with shock. Hastily, he dropped his arms and hoped that no one saw him like that. Thankfully, George had cracked a joke and the others were laughing, Molly joining them, wiping her puffy eyes, and so, as the mood had lightened up, she forgot that she had another son to check. He felt like a poof for wanting a hug from his mum at this age, but could not deny that it hurt that she forgot to look at him. He wondered if his family and friends were laughing at him, if they saw him open-mouthed with half-raised arms, watching his mother with hurt and confusion. No, they wouldn't, ...would they?_

The scene changed again.

 _"There you go." Harry said, derisively, "Something for you to wear on Tuesday. You might even have a scar now, if you're lucky... that's what you want, isn't it?"_

 _Ron just sat there, too angry to form any words, as Harry went upstairs to the beds. He was sitting alone in the Gryffindor Common Room now. Tears threatened to fall from his eyes. Harry, his former best friend, had just hit him. He'd thrown a cup at his head, and him being a fantastic aimer, it had hit him right on his forehead, slicing his skin. The wound was throbbing painfully, and Ron knew that some blood must be spilling out of his head now, but he didn't care. This was the first time they had attacked each other physically, and Ron knew that things could only get worse now._

 _He had lost his friend forever, he knew it. And considering that Hermione always stuck to Harry, and rarely met him these days, he might as well bid her goodbye too. For the first time, he decided to take a break from being a loyal, supportive friend, and this is how his life changed._

 _Still, he couldn't help but feel bitter. Who did Harry think he was? Just because he wasn't supportive of him anymore, he gets the right to beat him?_

 _But as he sobbed alone in the room, checking every once in a while to make sure no one came back downstairs, he convinced himself that he deserved it..._

The scene changed again. Ron did not want to see them, but he had no choice. No matter how tightly he shut his eyes, the scenes continued to play before him.

 _Ron, who still had not said a word, took the badge, stared at it for a moment, and then held it out to Harry asking mutely for confirmation that it was genuine. Harry took it._

 _The door banged open. Hermione came tearing into the room, her cheeks flushed and her hair flying. There was an envelope in her hand._

 _"Did you — did you get —?" She spotted the badge in Harry's hand and let out a shriek._

 _"I knew it!" she said excitedly, brandishing her letter. "Me too, Harry, me too!"_

 _"No," said Harry quickly, pushing the badge back into Ron's hand. "It's Ron, not me."_

 _"It — what?"_

 _"Ron's prefect, not me," Harry said._

 _"_ _Ron_ _?" said Hermione, her jaw dropping. "But... are you sure? I mean —" She turned red as Ron looked around at her with a defiant expression on his face. "It's my name on the letter," he said._

 _"I..." said Hermione, looking thoroughly bewildered. "I... well ... wow! Well done, Ron! That's really- "_

 _"Unexpected," said George, nodding._

 _"No," said Hermione, blushing harder than ever, "no, it's not... Ron's done loads of... he's really..."_

 _Ron had never felt so horrible in his life. These were his friends? But, as his mum entered, he shrugged the hurt off. Surely his mother would not react like this..._

The scene changed.

 _"Presumption!" shrilled hocrux-Hermione, looking even more beautiful than the real one-_

"NO!"

Ron was lying on the floor, clutching his hair, panting, and taking short, rugged breaths. He felt exhausted. His brain was completely ransacked, he felt emotionally drained. He just knew that he could not relive _that_ particular memory. He never wanted to feel those emotions again in his life. He knew he was crying. He must have looked pathetic to the elf.

As soon as he thought about it, his head snapped up. The elf!

Lucy was staring at him with astonishment and confusion. Those wide eyes were still staring at him. She had seen so many memories of his. What would she make out of it?

"Wh-... wha... but-" She snapped out of it when she noticed the sight in front of her. She quickly rushed to his side, helping him stand up on his wobbly feet. "S-s-sorry master! Lucy is very sorry! She-she will bring some chocolate for him-" and swiftly apparated away.

Ron just sat on the floor, sniffing quietly, until Lucy came back with a chocolate cake. As he proceeded to finish the cake, he realized that his mood improved a little. As the time continued to pass, he pushed back the haunting thoughts and stood up, with Lucy taking the empty plate from his hands.

"Sir? Master?" Lucy's voice was fearful, "Are you a seer?"

Oh, so that's what she thought. Ron thought that he couldn't come up with something better at the moment, and so, he just nodded his head.

"Swear on your pride that you won't tell anyone about it..."

...

When he was returning to the Common Room, Ron bumped into Mcgonagall, who seemed relieved to find him there. She was carrying a book and a green vial in her hands.

"Mr. Weasley! Thank Merlin; I dreaded that you had gone to fight off another troll. I was looking for you in the dorms, but no one seemed to know your whereabouts in there." He winced; the older students had been partying wildly. McGonagall must have had given a couple detentions inside the room...

"Here-" she handed him the book, "is a book I thought you might be interested in. It was in the restricted section of the library, and I borrowed it to help you. You would not return it to Madam Price; you'd return it to me."

Ron was pleasantly surprised when he read the book's title. ' _Advanced Occlumency & Leglimency' by Eldritch Diggory Jr.? She brought it for me?_

He beamed at her. "Thanks, professor!"

"Okay, Mr Weasley. I would also like to tell you that I had a talk with Headmaster about your pet, and he was quite intrigued with your claims. We have agreed to take a look at your pet, in the upcoming Saturday evening. Here-" she handed him the vial now. "This is a sleeping potion for animals, and it works even on an Animagus in his animalistic form. Make sure that your rat is fed this potion before coming to the Headmaster's office. Oh, and the password is 'Lemon Sherbet'." With that, she walked away.

As he entered the room, he was immediately questioned by a frantic Percy. His bespectacled brother was always at his neck, probably feeling guilty for having forgotten about him and his friends during the troll attack. "What did McGonagall want with you? What book are you carrying? Did you get in some trouble again? Why were you roaming around alone?"

"Whoa, Perce!" Ron exclaimed, "Give me a sec to breathe, okay?" He didn't want to answer so many questions right now, itching to go to his bed and read the book he had been given. But, he had to tell him something. So, he settled for a line which he knew would throw off his elder brother.

"She said that we would find something about Scabbers this weekend..."

...

 _Dear Ron,_

 _How are you? Are you healthy? Have you been eating well? Oh, of course you'd be eating well. What is going on in your life, apart from what I've heard already? Are you enjoying your studies? I hope that the enthusiasm you showed in your school subjects wasn't short lived. I am writing this letter to you for a lot of reasons. So, I will start from the topic which bothered me the most._

 _Ronald Weasley, HOW DARE YOU? YOU PUNCHED A BOY? WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? You punched Crabbe's son on the face! I can't believe it. I never expected this from you, honestly. You've let me down today; I was so proud of you till now. You've gone there to study, Ronald, and not to become a class-less bully!_

 _Listen to me young man. You will not behave like a wild monkey in your school; I've raised you better than that. You will not indulge in any more fights this year. And if I hear about you initiating a brawl in your school EVER again, you'll have to pay._

 _I even heard about the troll, courtesy of your twin brothers. I can't blame you much about that. From what I heard, you saved Harry from being killed. I just wish that my baby boy would not face such horrifying, terrible situations in the future. I even wrote to Headmaster Dumbledore regarding this. I'm just glad you are safe._

 _Finally, I actually wanted to write this letter to tell you that your father and I are going to Romania this Christmas, to spend some time with Charlie. We've never visited him since he moved out from the Burrow. So, you'll have to spend the holidays at Hogwarts, dear. I hope you won't mind much. Your siblings know about this. Spend the holidays with your brothers, Ron. I hope you enjoy your time there._

 _I'll send your sweater though, don't worry. Happy Holidays, Ronnie!_

 _Love,_

 _Mum._

The man sighed. The boy had written about his preferred colors, but his mother gave no indication that she ever read him. It was a little pathetic, to be honest. It had been eleven years, and the Weasley boy had mentioned that he complained about it every year, and still his mother could not remember that he hated maroon. The idea was almost laughable, but the fact that the boy's mother did not care about him much was concerning. What if young Ronald realized early on that he was not loved as equally as his other brothers, and went to the dark side?

The tall, gangly man looked up from the letters at the Weasley family's owl. It was old, and the fact that he managed to deliver letters correctly was a little baffling to him. It was an easy job to trace the owl through others' help, and a quick Imperius Curse had made sure that he stayed on his desk long enough. He looked at the other letters attached to the owl's feet, and noticed that the ones addressed to Percy, Fred and George looked quite longer than Ronald's. It was not surprising in the least.

As he calmly dissected the contents of the letter in front of him, he knew that Molly was exhausted by the time she reached to write to her youngest son. Her writing style was different in this letter; the sentences were shorter. The scolding was half-hearted. She quickly wanted to get this over with. It was a job for her to inform him about their plans. There was no love in the letter; not a single heartfelt, warming line. Their exchange was awkward. Even the boy did not know what to write to his own mother. This was a job for both of them, though Ronald's writing was considerably warmer than his mother's.

At last, he sighed again. He had hoped to meet Ronald Weasley this Christmas, but it seemed that he would have to wait for a few more months.

...

"Is it sleeping, Mr. Weasley?"

The day had come. The day when, if all things went smoothly, Peter Pettigrew would be revealed to the world. He had come to Dumbledore's office as soon as the sun began to set. He saw Fawkes for the first time since fifth year, when the old Headmaster was telling him about his father's accident. He had never seen the majestic bird again ever since.

He looked towards the desk. Dumbledore was looking at him calmly, his hands resting on the desk, intertwined together. Besides him, McGonagall was standing with her emotions unreadable through her blank face.

He showed them the rat, sleeping on his palm. "Yes sir."

Dumbledore stood up slowly. "Very well, my dear boy. Place it on the floor, at the centre of the marble you see behind you."

He did as he was told. Dumbledore and McGonagall came near him, and took a good look at the rat. Dumbledore took out his wand, the 15" elegant Elder Wand, and non-verbally cast the Anti-Transfiguration spells on Scabbers. Perhaps, it was the fact that it was the Elder Wand, or that Scabbers was motionless, or most probably both; his 'pet' quickly began to change his appearance, to the visible horror of Minerva McGonagall. The rat expanded its size and began forming human hands and feet, convulsing horribly while doing so. Slowly, his face transformed to that of a man he hated.

"Oh Merlin..." McGonagall whispered, "It can't be..." Albus Dumbledore looked grim. They were looking at the human form of Peter Pettigrew.

McGonagall gasped. "Albus, look! One of his fingers is missing! Oh Godric, he faked his death!"

Dumbledore quickly formed strong, thick ropes out of thin air and bound, strapped his body. McGonagall snapped out of her daze and muttered every anti-transformation spell she could think of around the room.

"Err, professor?" Ron started, for the sake of it, "who is he?"

It was at that moment Peter started to move, opening his eyes, and blinked more than once. As soon as his situation came home to him, he looked frightened for his life.

"A person dead to the world, Mr. Weasley. Peter Pettigrew, posthumous recipient of Order of Merlin, Third Class. Hello, Peter..."

* * *

 _ **A/N: Thank you for all the appreciation! Phew! This was an explosive chapter. I don't generally beg for it, but I would really like your feedback on this chapter.**_

 _ **I think I ranted too much in the previous A/N. I would like to clarify that just because I find Hermione cruel does not mean that this is a Hermione-bashing fic. I don't bash, simple as that. It's only my personal opinion, and I assure you that it would in no way hinder any chance of a R/Hr pairing here. If I feel that it is believable when I'm working on GoF or OoTP arcs, I'd maybe go for it. But it's too far away. I just wrote it to make sure I don't lose the readers who have names like 'RHrShipper' or 'JeanAndBillius' :P**_

 _ **Thanks! -WW**_


	9. Chapter 8: The Christmas Letter

**_I don't own Harry Potter. Do NOT sue me._**

* * *

 **Chapter Eight**

 **The Christmas Letter**

When Albus Dumbledore had first heard that young Ronald Weasley had suspicions about his pet rat being an Animagus, he honestly did not know what to expect. For all he knew, it could have been an imaginative child's paranoia, just like the monsters under their beds. But he was expecting something from the youngest Weasley boy, something big. Their little chat in the library, which took place months ago, had confirmed that he was unlike his peers. He was... an enigma, who he would have to be checked upon every once in a while. The other fact was that the rat had lived for 12 years! It certainly wasn't ordinary. If it had not turned out to be a human, he would have checked the rat thoroughly for traces of magic in its blood. But he needn't do so, since that harmless pet rat turned out to be Peter Pettigrew.

Everything fell into pieces. A grand puzzle, a lifelong puzzle had been solved. The cold, foggy night when Harry's parents were murdered became much clearer. He always did know that something was missing in that time and he had fortunately wizened up in his old age to always trust on his instincts, no matter how foolish. The sudden transformation of Sirius Black from a loyal and most trustworthy friend to a crazed traitorous murderer always baffled him. He had not believed it at first, but he being caught red-handed trying to kill Pettigrew forced him to doubt Sirius. Had the pure, muggle-hating blood flowing through his veins been the cause? He had tried to find the answers, but Black had laughed throughout his trials; a crazy maniacal laughter whenever Barty Crouch Sr. would say that he killed Peter. Veritaserum was banned, and Albus' hands were tied. He could not do anything for Sirius.

Presently, they spent almost half an hour extracting information from the man. He got to know how Peter was always jealous of James. Good looks, better grades, popularity, Quidditch skills, a perfect wife, money. James had all the things Peter wanted for himself. Peter still pretended to be great friends with him because it had its benefits. He was part of the most popular group of the school, and people noticed him because of that. But the jealousy continued to eat him from inside. He saw how Tom was able to easily influence him. His evil former-student had come to Peter to know the identity of Potter's secret keeper, and was pleasantly surprised when he found out that it was him. He saw how Peter betrayed his friend's trust, how he led Tom to the Godric's Hollow...

"They-they could've killed me, Professor! I had to! I had no other choice!"

Pettigrew cried once again, as Minerva scoffed and continued to look at him with disgust filled in her eyes, while Ronald, red-faced, watched everything with anger. Dumbledore addressed the man lying in front of him.

"If you actually believed yourself to have done no sin, Peter, then why were you hiding for so many years? Living as a rat, furthermore?"

"SIRIUS!" Pettigrew shouted frantically, "Professor, Sirius! If people knew I was alive, Sirius would be free! He would surely come and kill me, professor! He's barmy! Completely insane!" He had tears in his eyes, and he was struggling with the ropes he was bound with.

"That's it!" Albus and Minerva both turned their heads to find Ronald shouting, opening his mouth for the first time since he asked the identity of the man. "You bast- err.. Basilisk! You make someone who trusted you rot in Azkaban? What kind of human are you? You vile, pathetic- you do _deserve_ to be killed!"

Peter looked at him with wide eyes, trying to make an innocent expression on his face. "Ronald! You don't understand! It's easy to say that. I did not want this to happen, but the Dark Lord was standing in front of me! You can't work out what is right or wrong at that moment! I didn't want to die-"

"Oh! You were scared of dying? Why did you become a secret-keeper then? Why did you let people trust you, you rotten scum? If you had just said no, Harry's parents wouldn't have been murdered by Voldemort!"

Both Minerva and Peter flinched at the name, while Albus raised his eyebrows. Why would a child, one who had grown up hearing about the horrors of the war and Tom, use his name? Anger for his best friend? Or genuine bravery? Or the understanding that one must not fear a name?

 _Why is Ronald Weasley such an enigma to me?_

While Peter had no understandably no answer to the young boy's questions, he desperately continued to persuade him. Albus continued to calmly observe the rat-faced man while he did so. He was clinging to last straws. He knew that Minerva or he could not sympathise with him anymore, so he turned to the only other occupant of the room, though he knew that Ronald could not do anything even if he wanted to.

"I.. Ron, I've changed now, really! Your family changed me. I considered you to be my dear friend! That's why I never went away from you people. I'm no fool; I could've constantly changed places so that no one would suspect me for my age. But I didn't! I wanted to be with you people!... I knew this day would come soon; that I'd overstayed. I would've just asked for forgiveness and walked away from your lives, peacefully... Please Ron! I don't want this! Don't let them hurt me! Remember! The days when we would play in the garden, when you used to talk to me about everything, when you'd give your own food for me to eat-"

"That wasn't _you_! It was Scabbers!" The boy then tried to control himself. Albus tried to enter his mind and see if Peter's words affected him somehow. He was shocked to find a weak shield being immediately put up. He saw Ronald averting his eyes from him.

What was happening? Who would teach him Occlumency?

"W-Well then," Ron started, looking a little shaken up, "I really hope you rot in Azkaban. If you genuinely think like that, then atleast you'd know what it feels like to be betrayed by someone you considered your friend."

Peter's face immediately morphed into an angry expression. Before he could open his mouth, Albus pointed his wand at him. "This has gone long enough." He swiftly stunned him.

"Mr Weasley, keep in mind that we may need you at the Wizengamot during his trials as a witness. Understand?" Ron nodded quickly. "Good, good. You may go now."

After he was gone, he went back and sat on his chair, sighing heavily, feeling very tired. He looked up to find Minerva staring at him. "Minerva, how does the boy know Occlumency?"

She looked taken aback. "Mr Weasley? I gave him a book on that subject, but I never thought that he would be able to practice it by his own!"

"Yes, the Weasleys are a very passionate group of people. I'd never expect them to learn mind techniques, but it seems as if Ronald is keen on proving us wrong time and again." He hoped that he was just being paranoid; that what he was thinking wasn't true.

Ronald Weasley. Thomas Riddle. He was seeing similarities between them. Very clear similarities. Poor backgrounds, prodigious skills, an anti-social behaviour, secrets hidden inside their brains, fascination with mind-techniques at an early age, shady situations happening around them. Ronald was present at the Troll incident even after they had sent everyone back to their dorms. He had seen the three-headed dog. And now this. He could distinctly recall Tom getting an award for catching the monster hiding in the Chamber of Secrets. Wasn't the situation somewhat similar?

The boy was anti-social. He would be having fun with his friends and family at the Gryffindor table, but Albus could see him not being completely there. He was faking happiness at times. He had noticed him roaming outside the castle, all alone, and sitting in the library in an isolated corner. He had many people charmed by his charisma who would do things from him, including Minerva. Just like Tom.

And Occlumency! How did he do it? How did he grasp it so easily? Someone had to be aiding him. Even Tom had learned it from an unsuspecting Horace. Who was helping him inside the castle?

He would not make the same mistakes he had made with Tom. He would keep a close watch on Ronald Weasley's actions. If he strayed towards the dark side, he would pull him towards the better one himself. Harry's sense of good and bad would be greatly affected if Ronald manipulated him too.

Harry! Ronald had made friends with him since the starting of their term. Was it coincidental or a well thought-of plan?

He sighed. The more he thought about him, the more mysterious the Weasley boy appeared.

 _Why is Ronald Weasley such an enigma to me?_

 _..._

 _Hermione was holding his hand, shyly smiling at him. Harry had his arm around his shoulder, with a proud look in his eyes. His family was standing right behind them. Fred was pointing at him and laughing along with George, who had only one ear. His father, mother, Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Percy, Ginny. All of them were looking directly at him with adoration and pride. And in the front, between Harry and Hermione, was Ron himself. Battle scars, scars from the Ministry, splinching scars; all of those present on his body. His clothes, just like everybody else's, was burnt and torn at some places. Blood stains were present on their clothes. He was smiling cockily at him. He had made it alive. This Ron had made it alive, along with Harry, Fred and his whole family. And Hermione._

Ron went towards the mirror, his feet seemed to be taking him on their own accord, and touched the reflection of Hermione, who was still smiling at him. He had forgotten how beautiful she looked. His emotions were overwhelming him, and he let out a soft sob. Merlin, he missed them. He missed her. Why couldn't the time turner just have rewinded some hours? He could've had saved Fred, saved Harry and saved himself from Greyback. They would have had finished Voldemort and lived happily ever after. Why couldn't things be easy like that?

A few tears fell down his face.

It was midnight. He had been going back to his dorm from the Occlumency sessions when he'd seen Filch coming downstairs. He'd immediately rushed to the nearest door. And came face to face with the Mirror of Erised once again. His previous dreams, ones from his first year, had vanished completely. He had become prefect. He had won the Quidditch Cup. He had achieved half his goals in life, with luck of course. But his new desire was overwhelming, so very perfect, and pure. He had considered himself to be a shallow person once, when Harry could see his parents in the mirror, while all he saw were his goals. When Hermione would think of Harry and the elves, while he was accused of being selfish. He had justified that somebody had to think about Ron Weasley too, and if it was Ron himself, so be it, since his mom was busy with Ginny, and Hermione with Harry.

But today, he saw something good about himself as he gazed back in the mirror. He had grown. He had matured. Or that he was wrong about himself from the beginning; that he wasn't a totally selfish person. He genuinely cared about his loved ones. He had stopped resenting his parents and Hermione for not noticing him enough, stopped resenting his siblings and Harry for being better than him. He had started loving them regardless they loved him as much as he did or not. This fact felt... nice.

"Amazing, isn't it, Mr Weasley?"

Shocked, he abruptly turned around to see a smiling Albus Dumbledore. Ron hastily wiped his eyes as Dumbledore came closer. "Professor Dumbledore!"

The headmaster was staring at the Mirror himself. "What a beautiful piece of magic, wouldn't you agree? They had brought it to England to study this ancient magic."

"Yeah..." Ron didn't care a bit about the magic it had. Mind tricks were the worst forms of magic possible. He would rather hit them with Sectumsempra than making them mental. That was a lot more humane approach.

Albus noticed it. He did think, after Ronald's fascinations with Occlumancy, that he would like a piece of magic like this. He was terribly wrong, as he could see. He could see that maybe his fears were unfounded. Maybe Ron Weasley was no Tom Riddle or Peter Pettigrew. Underneath his mysterious surface, there certainly lied a compassionate and noble boy. His tears, the longing in his eyes did confirm that what he desired the most wasn't something materialistic, or something as insane as immortality. It was someone, or something, of much value to him. He deeply cherished whatever, or whoever it was. The Sorting Hat had not put him in Slytherin or Ravenclaw, although he was cunning enough to find a way to learn mind magic in the school, because his bravery and loyalty must have been more.

"What do you see in it, Professor?"

Of course he would ask it. "Me? I see myself holding a nice pair of Christmas socks!" Albus merrily declared.

"... You're lying."

Albus stared curiously at the boy beside him. "And why would you think so, Mr Weasley?"

"This is a mirror showing your desires. It's written here. Your deepest desire won't be something that ridiculous. Your eyes turn sad when you look at the mirror."

The old wizard was highly impressed by the young student. He was perceptive. But he could not tell him what he actually sees whenever he looks at this particular mirror. He never told anyone. He deeply cherished them, yearned for them. They were of deep value to him, after all.

"You... see your sister, don't you?"

Albus froze. How did this child know?

"H-How do you know?"

Ron mentally grimaced. He was trying to turn the tables on Dumbledore so that he won't ask him what was he doing here, or what he did see. But what should he do now? 'The Life & Lies Of Albus Dumbledore' had not been published yet!

"Err... Aunt Muriel... knows Bathilda Bagshot... she knew your mother. Yeah! Aunt Muriel never stops saying things about you. We don't believe it, of course."

Dumbledore sighed. Muriel Weasley had not changed at all, it seems.

He looked at the mirror again. Ariana was standing in the middle of Aberfoth and him, holding his arm and smiling warmly at him. The Albus inside was also fortunate enough to hold his kind, beautiful mother's hand, while his father patted his back. A happy family, unlike his own.

"Very well, Mr Weasley," He locked his moist eyes with his pupil's astonished orbs, "back to bed now, or I'll deduct points!"

...

Disclosing the situation of his beloved rat to his friends and siblings was no easy task for him. They had interrogated him more than Dumbledore or McGonagall had, combined. No question was to be left unanswered. Since when? Why? What then? How could he? What a traitor! Did you punch him?

As irritated as he was answering these questions, he still thought that it was good that they were curious. He needed all the practice that he could get for inquiries, since Ron had to accompany his mom and dad to the Wizengamot for Pettigrew's trial. The news had spread like wildfire. Pettigrew's death was very notorious in the Wizarding World. He had received the Third Class, which as the press had now declared, he certainly did not deserve. The press had not mentioned his or his family's name, thankfully, and he managed to attract no attention towards himself, other than the fact that he had no pet to take to the Transfiguration classes.

Frankly, he was terribly frightened for the trials. What if they asked him to take magical oaths or Veritaserum? He would be exposed, and that too in the presence of the Minister, Dumbledore, his parents and Pettigrew himself. And he could think of no way around this. The trial was during Christmas break, which meant that his parents' vacation to Romania was considerably shortened. Maybe he would have to injure himself horribly and land in St. Mungos to save himself. Yes, the situation was that desperate.

The only good news to come in those days was a small newspaper article in which the Minister had apologised to Sirius Black for all the wasted years of his life, and declared him innocent of all charges. Today was the day before Christmas, and it was now that they read this headline in The Daily Prophet.

 **SIRIUS BLACK RELEASED**

Sirius was being operated by the healers in these days. He was now healthy enough to apparate by himself, which was a good sign. Harry did not yet know that he had a godfather, so Ron prayed that Sirius would be strong enough to write a Christmas letter to him. That would surely make his day.

Today, Harry and he had to pay a visit to Hagrid, and then they would have to search for Nicholas Flamel in the library. He never felt so frustrated in his life. He had to go through these stupid tasks when he could be finding something to counter magical oaths and Veritaserum without anyone knowing. Since the breaks had started, Harry would stick with him at all times, and he found it difficult to even practice Occlumency. He felt like crying. He would certainly have to injure himself, cause himself bodily harm. Or pray to all the shooting stars that they don't use magical oaths on children.

...

Snow had settled everywhere around the castle. They were currently walking a thick white layer of the ever-falling snow as they came back after meeting Hagrid. They had almost reached the castle when, all of a sudden, a big snowball came out of nowhere and hit Ron on the face, making him stumble backwards. He angrily wiped out the snow from his face, while Harry and he looked around for the culprit. There they saw him, standing behind a tree, looking at them.

Fred was grinning broadly.

"I knew it would be you!" shrilled Ron. He bent down, furiously collecting some snow to make a ball himself, when another one of those hit him on his buttocks. He immediately turned around.

George was grinning broadly.

Ron looked murderously at them both. "Harry, mate. I need your help with these two. We have to show them!" Harry looked a little uncertain.

"I don't think-"

Fred, who was hearing this, cheered for them as he heard what Ron said. "Oooh! Be careful, George. This is a war against two very heroic men! The Chosen One-"

"And The Ickle Troll-Tamer-" George supplied.

"- have formed a team against us!"

Ron and Harry had hurriedly, frantically made the balls and threw them as accurately as they could. They fought like true warriors. Sadly, all their efforts were easily outclassed by the twins, who had their rack of snowballs prepared in advanced. And they used their wands to guide them, while Harry and him were too busy getting hit and preparing their own balls to have the time to take out theirs.

They were crushed, humiliatingly so.

Ron had almost stopped struggling until he saw his light of hope.

"Fred and George! You had to report to Mr. Filch for detention for pulling that foolish trick on Professor Quirell an hour ago! And you are still _here_? Playing games with Ron and Harry?"

"Percy!" Ron cried, "Save us, please!"

George laughed. "What will he do? Deduct house points?" He never saw the snowman Percy had charmed sliding near him, and was too late to do anything when it jumped on him. He fell hard on the ground. Everyone looked at Percy in shock, who was grinning smugly at them.

"Oh, yes!"

...

Ron woke up the next morning to find a large stack of presents waiting for him to open. He saw his best friend was up already, looking at his own gifts in astonishment.

"Merry Christmas, Harry..." he muttered sleepily, and faintly heard him wishing back.

They opened their presents together, Ron with a lot more vigour than Harry since he already knew what was inside those packages. As Harry was going to open his mom's package, he felt the need to point it out.

"I know who gave you that. I told my mum that you weren't expecting any gifts, and she made a jumper for you."

Harry pulled the emerald green jumper out. It looked so much better than his own! While he personally didn't like green that much, he would trade maroon for it anytime. It must have been a coincidence, but his mother had used the same colour Harry's eyes were of. He had to wonder at the irony of the situation. It seemed like his mother could even make Harry's jumper of a likeable color, while he had to be stuck at maroon. Hadn't he mentioned it in each of his letters almost four times that he didn't want it? Why couldn't _his_ jumper ever match _his_ eyes' color?

"Wow Ron, thanks!" Harry beamed at him. He had the book in his hand Ron had given to him as a gift. Charlie's old copy of _The Skilled Seeker._ Charlie wouldn't need it anytime in his future, he knew it, so he'd wrote to him to send it to Hogwarts, since he remembered that he had never given Harry a decent enough gift.

The rest of the day had gone pretty much the same as he could remember it being in the previous flow of events. They had both gushed over Harry's amazing Invisibility Cloak, Ron had finished all the fudge and chocolate frogs he got, and they had played Wizard's Chess. When Harry had snuck outside with his new cloak, Ron went back to bed. There he saw a letter addressed to him, which had gone unnoticed because of his gifts. He picked it up, took out the letter from the envelope and unfolded it.

 _Merry Christmas, Mr. Weasley._

 _I hope with all my heart that this 12th Christmas of your young life was joyful and enjoyable._

 _Or is it the 19th one? Does reliving the same day count as a new day?_

* * *

 **A/N: _Ding ding ding!_**

 ** _130 REVIEWS! I can't thank you guys enough. Those readers who've attempted writing know how special it is to cross the 100 review mark for the first time, and on your very first story, even. And in just 8 chapters. Wow! I'm glad that you liked this so much._**

 ** _It's been 50 days since I last posted, and I'm sorry for that. Real life, exams happened._**

 ** _Thank you to people like herronlove and randver for leaving reviews for every chapter. The pain you take is unnecessary, yet highly appreciable._**

 ** _The best thing to happen is out of 130 reviews, only one was negative, which my Ron and the story kinda flat. Well, I can't do much in the very first year, and Sorcerer's Stone WAS a lame one compared to others, I think._**

 ** _You guys have also loved my characterisation of Ron & Hermione, and I'm very happy. I know that I didn't give Harry much focus till now. I really can't find much in his character. Any help? Though, he isn't the main character. Main would be Ron, Albus and Hermione, in the order._**

 ** _The 'Guest' who last posted, I'm glad you liked the story and posted 9-10 reviews, but please form actual words the next time you do so. The ones who called this 'one of the greatest Ron fics', said 'You haven't posted for an year' and 'you've got one story and you can't update it', is it the same person? Just askin'_**

 ** _I'm sorry. I don't know why I wrote bollocks there before. Maybe I'm sleep deprived!_**

 ** _-WW_**


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